


The Case of the Queens Virus

by professionalsuethor



Category: Ghost in the Shell
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalsuethor/pseuds/professionalsuethor
Summary: A virus that infected the human body rather than computer systems had emerged in the year 2016 but was covered up as a terrorist attack. 
Miranda Sulley was promised a cure for the virus and was put into a cryogenic coma. When she awoke, it was the year 2030 and was rescued from certain death by Section 9 who'd been investigating an incident on a different floor of the same building. 
Losing her best friend, maybe her entire family and way of life left Miranda a tad depressed.
She is kept by Section 9 for testing with a hope that they could come up with the antidote(that Gifts of Paradise had promised) to keep the virus from spreading. 
Despite this, Miranda shows no signs of illness nor has her blood reached a dangerous acidity level that could transform her into the monsters she'd seen at the beginning of her story. There are no symptoms. 
Along the way, as ordered by Aramaki himself, Miranda moves in with Batou as to avoid being kidnapped by the Gifts of Paradise program who want to use Miranda in a sinister plot yet to be revealed. 
Naturally, the two fall in love and the story ensues.





	1. Infusion of the Queens Virus

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Author's Note:** Because I have only seen like two or three episodes of Stand Alone Complex and have only seen the first movie all the way through, this fanfiction will not be entirely canonical. The events described in this story do not fit in any particular set timeline of the series. Please forgive me if there are technical things that I cannot keep straight. Remember, this fic is simply for our entertainment and it is in no way intended to be entirely correct or canon.

 

**Chapter One**

**_Infusion of the Queens Virus_ **

****

            “I can't believe we can finally afford to vacation here!” Miranda squealed as she took a sip of her orange juice. Finally, they'd made it to the vacation spot of their dreams. Naturally, though, she wouldn't have been able to afford it if it weren't for the best friend one could ask for! It had taken a little over a year for her to save up for such a thing. That, and it took that long for Paris to ask for vacation time in order to make this possible.

            And there they were, at the LaFayette Hotel just outside of the JFK airport in New York, enjoying their brunch. With somebody such as her with little money to spare – this was the trip of a lifetime! They would go see the museum, have an awesome shopping trip and then eat out at some awesome Asian barbecue later on. This was indeed the life.

            “Imagine us,” Paris started, lifting her coffee to lips, “Two old biddies taking vacations together away from our husbands. People may just think we're lesbians.”

            Miranda sighed and twisted her glass on the table a bit.

            “Oh, right,” Paris frowned, “I forgot. You don't –“

            “But I'll have a great boyfriend someday, right? Some day?” Miranda gave a pained smile.

            Taking in a breath, Paris sighed, “Of course. Of course you will.”

            “But we've got this lovely brunch here and a good shopping spree ahead of us!” Her friend nodded. She pushed some of her wavy, dark curls behind an ear. It revealed a double-peirced ear, one with a stud and the other with a dangling earring. They looked like something she'd picked up at Tiffany's but anybody who looked close enough would know they were a cheap Wal-Mart buy.

            Beside their table was a tall window – tall enough to take up nearly an entire side of the building – with panes separating each piece. The afternoon sun shined down on them brightly. From there, they could see the great traffic that Queens had to offer. However, their attention was not on that.

            “You know, I heard a Japanese Ambassador is supposed to meet the New York Senator here for lunch.” Paris nodded, taking a bite of her cinnamon raisin bagel.

            “Where did you hear that? I'm pretty sure that kind of stuff isn't public domain unless it's reported on the television first – right?”

            “Nah.  I heard a few of the housekeepers whispering about it after I left our room.”

            “And speak of the devil!” Miranda nodded in a gesture away from the table. That very senator was walking around with his bodyguards. They'd stopped, as though they were waiting. “I wonder what's going on if he has to meet with a foreign official? Something about this sounds really suspicious, if you ask me.”

            “Bah, who cares?” Paris rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her bangs were so long that they only swooped over her temples rather than cover her bare forehead. Her green eyes peered at her friend from across her. She had an arm resting on the table. She seemed a little bored as she picked up her fork, pointing it at the woman across from her. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn't go to the museum today. I say we take our credit cards and just spl–“

            Before she could continue her sentence, there was a howl and then a giant _BOOM._ The glass in the window shattered all around them – and flames were everywhere.  The blast sent them to the floor and their table flying. Not to mention other objects around them.

            Miranda had no idea what happened. All she could feel was the pain from shards in her side and back. She coughed, looking for her friend.

            “...P-Paris!” She cried, crawling around in the smokescreen. There were flames behind her and people were crying out. Before she could see her friend, she saw something being tossed into the center of the room, just in front of her. It was a small tube of sorts – no bigger than her pinky. The thing hit the ground and splintered open. There was liquid under it and eventually it broke apart and there was a mist that filled the air.

            “Paris!” She yelled louder this time. Her clothes were torn and there was blood running down her arm. The gas that filled the room made her eyes burn like she'd cut an onion. Although, that was a minor inconvenience for her, she started hearing blood curdling wailing around her. It wasn't the fact that so many people were affected by the vial – but the fact that a few of those cries mutated into howls and lion-like roars.

            “R-Randi!” The blonde responded. She started coughing. Then she started _really_ coughing. It was hard enough that Miranda would have mistaken it as a whooping cough.

            As the smoke started to dissipate she watched as there were quite a few people running around amok. They were acting crazy – screaming and hissing. This may have been a terrorist attack – but the thing that brought the most terror was the way its victims were acting afterward. Granted, there would be shock and crying and all but – but this was completely unprecedented.

            One person that was running around manically fell to the floor, dead in his tracks. It was horrifying to see that his face was completely marred. He'd had open sores where his skin had rotted away in a matter of minutes.

            She watched his corpse lie there. Was there acid used in that vial? But how – when she, herself, had seemed only mildly affected by it? The air smelled rancid.

            That was when the body had started to twitch. Was he still alive after all that? As if by morbid fascination, her eyes stuck to the scene. Pieces of bone pushed through the flesh and his suit to stand. What was left of his rotted skin stretched over this creature. It had turned into something taller than a man and more horrifying than anything her little imagination could muster.

            The thing looked like a bat but with pink and red meat all over it. From what she could see, its jaw increased four-fold and fangs grew from its gums. On its giant, unearthly pegs, it ran toward its first victim.

            There was a shriek as it picked up the person by its mouth and pulled it up into the air to feast.

            Seeing as she didn't want to be its next prey, Miranda quickly crawled away into hiding. She was behind an upset table.

            “What the hell is _going on?_ ” Paris whispered loudly as she followed to sit with her friend.

            “I have no fucking clue – but this is some scary shit.” Miranda, or _Randi,_ replied.

            “This is scarier than those video games my brother plays.” The blonde frowned.

            “But this isn't a video game, Paris!” Miranda whispered, “We could _really_ die!”

            “I hope somebody comes to rescue us soon. It's crazy as fuck out here.”

            Not soon after that sentence they could hear gunfire. Was it the police? It was hard to see through the mist that permeated the room. Men had come through in uniform with gas masks on.

            “It's the military!” Miranda cried.

            “Ugh, my stomach hurts...” Paris curled over, holding her gut, “It feels like my tummy's on fire.”

            Turning, Randi put her arm around the blonde's shoulders. “It's going to be okay. They'll kill those monsters and we can get you an antacid.”

            “...I don't know if they can... If they can help this –“ Paris fell over.

            “Paris! Just – Just hold on!” Miranda cried.

            As there was semi-automatic gunfire in the background, a couple of people approached them. They wore white, plastic suits. The kind they wore when there was some kind of communicable disease present and they wanted to isolate it. It was their own form of protection. Despite that protection, Miranda was scared.

            “Come with us. We'll get you somewhere safe.” One of them said, taking Miranda by the arm and the others placing her friend on a cot.

            Once they were in the truck with other bodies, she was given a shot that knocked her out.

 

            When she opened her eyes, she was in a cot in a room surrounded by other men in plastic suits. There were wall hangings of plastic. Medical instruments could be seen and near her was a heart monitor.

            “Where's Paris?” Was the first thing she asked.

            “Your friend is elsewhere,” Was the reply, “Look, there isn't much time.”

            “What do you mean there isn't much time?” Miranda blinked.

            “Like the others, you've contracted a virus that isn't treatable with the medicine we have today.”

            “You mean it's incurable?” Her brows pressed together. She tried to sit up but was pushed down.

            “If you're let out into public there is risk that it'll be contagious. For now, we're going to put you into a coma until we come up with an antidote.”

            “But what about what I want? What about Paris? My Mom–“

            “This is for the greater good of all.” He brought down a needle. Other men held her down.

            She was injected. Her eyes protested but she fell quickly asleep. How long she would be out – they didn't say. Hopefully, when she woke up, there would be a cure and she would be with her family again.

            Her last thoughts were: ... _I didn't even get the chance to find a nice boyfriend._

 

**~ o ~ o ~ o ~**

            The second time she opened her eyes, she found herself staring up at a white ceiling. The florescent lights were blaring into her eyes. She squinted. Too weak to get up, she turned her head to look at her surroundings. It seemed there were other people on cots that had yet to wake up. That chemical clean smell that was commonplace to hospitals was strong. They certainly weren't in one of those containment camps anymore.

            Miranda sat up to find herself in a hospital gown. There were people walking around the beds of whom she assumed were nurses or scientists. So, they'd found a cure for her illness? That seemed a rather short time. It felt like she was only asleep for a few minutes.

            “I'm awake,” She announced.

            “Welcome back to us, Miss uhh...” A female nurse picked up a clipboard at the was at the foot of the bed, “Miss Miranda Sulley. Do you know where you are?”

            “No. The last thing I remember is going to sleep.” She replied.

            “Are you feeling any discomfort? Any pain anywhere?” The nurse flipped through the chart.

            “Not at all. What's going on? Where's Paris?” Miranda was antsy.

            “Paris Jackson? She's over there. Should wake up any time soon.”

            “She was put into a coma as well?” Randi blinked.

            “No. You were frozen to contain the virus.” The woman explained, “We have an antidote. You just have to do as we say and you'll be fine.”

            What seemed strange to Miranda was that she'd finally noticed that every nurse there was Asian. Was there something she missed out on?

            “Can I go see Paris?” She asked.

            “Yes. She's just down here.” The nurse led her to the blonde's bed. Paris was in rather bad shape. Her skin was pale – much like those of the other sleeping patrons – and she looked half dead. Miranda was afraid she would have looked the same way but quelled that thought by taking her friend's hand into her own.

            “Babe...” She could have cried at the sorry state Paris was in. That hand she held, though, had been squeezed. It looked like there was hope after all. “Paris I –“

            Those familiar eyes opened and adjusted. She looked over, seeing Miranda standing over her.

            “Randi... What happened?”

            “I don't know what happened. I think we're sick. The nurse said that they have the cure.”

            “...My stomach hurts so b–“ Blood started seeping through the corners of the blonde's lips. She leaned over the side of the bed and puked up a glob of blood.

            “Oh my God – Somebody!” Miranda cried. The medical assistants rushed over to her.

            “It looks like she might not live long. The virus is known to eat through the insides until there isn't much left after the bone.”

            “What does that _even mean!?_ ” Miranda snapped.

            “Get out of the way. We need to isolate her.” An arm went to her to push her back.

            Before she could say anything, she turned to see the other patients with the same results. Everyone who had survived the attack was dying around her. What exactly was going on? Why did everyone seem to get really sick when she just stood there like a dope? She didn't feel any pain. She wasn't puking up blood – and her insides weren't rotting away, being eaten by the acid-like substance of the virus.

            With everyone waking up, Miranda realized how much the air started reeking of pus, infection and rotting flesh all around. She screamed when she saw a tentacle impale one of the nurses. That patient sat up and started to morph its flesh into a monster very similar to the one she saw at the hotel.

            She swiftly went to the corner of the room as the nursing staff tried to control the situation. Their efforts were in vain, though, as all of them were killed. Seeing as there was a window nearby – she'd assumed it was a hospital – she ran to it and slid it open, praying she wouldn't be their next meal.

            “ _HELP!!_ ” She screamed at the top of her lungs, “ _HELP!!_ ”

            By this time, one of the assistants turned into a creature and started attacking the other for food. For her luck, they didn't notice her.

            It seemed a phantom had come to her rescue – because the sliding glass in the window was shoved into the room and gunfire could be heard. Miranda didn't see anything near her, but she could feel someone, crouching down on the window sill.

            “Batou!” A woman shouted, “Get the woman!”

            “Right on it, Major!” Miranda could feel an arm go around her waist. Soon, his image seemed to flash into view. He slid her out the window and they went flying. She could hear the gunfire behind them in the building.

            As they went flying down, Miranda screamed again. They landed on the roof of a lower, nearby building. When they were there, she was out of breath. He let her down and she looked up at him. Under the street light she could see that he was built with strange spectacles on his eyes. They were probably the same age, from what she assumed, and had long hair that was pulled back.

            “You okay, Miss?” He asked. If it weren't for the sheer terror of the situation, her eyes would have turned into hearts and she would have gushed at him.

            “...What's going on? My friend Paris is still–“ Miranda started.

            “...We'll figure out what's going on soon enough. The Major has it all taken care of.” He nodded. “I'll get you somewhere safe, I promise.”

            “You'd protect me without even knowing me?” She blinked.

            “Sure. Why not?” Slightly, he tilted his head to the side. “Do you know any Japanese?”

            “Japanese? Not a whole lot. Why?”

            “...What are you doing in Japan?” He asked.

            “I'm in Japan?!” Her eyes widened. Suddenly, she felt weak and started to sway.

            “Whoa! Whoa!” Batou grabbed her shoulders, “Get a hold of yourself. Are you sick?”

            Miranda fainted as he held her.

            “... _Great._ ” He grumbled.

 

            **~o~o~o~**

            “Give us the information we want or we'll find it by our own means.” Daisuke Aramaki was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't let his humanity or his progressive age to stand in the way of what mattered. He stood there, giving the CEO of the _Gifts of Paradise_ program a hard stare. His white hair formed a V around the back of his head, giving itself more attention than the balding from his forehead back.

            “I assure you – everything we have done is within legal bounds, Mr. Aramaki.” Was the CEO's response. Aramaki knew he was full of shit.

            “Or should we bring up the fact that you've been involved in human trafficking.” The Chief replied.

            “Those bodies we bought were for the progression of science.”

            “I'm afraid that if it's still alive it is still considered trafficking – even if they're incapacitated.”

            “You have no proof of any of the such. This is outrageous – especially from you, Mr. Aramaki.”

            “Very well. I'll be back.” The old man dismissed himself.

            _Sir, the woman we found is awake._ Ishikawa informed the Chief telepathically. It was a wonder how far they'd come technologically.

            _Good,_ Aramaki replied, _I'll go see her now. What hospital did we put her in?_

_She's in the Shiruzuka psychiatric ward._ Ishikawa stated, looking over the monitors around him in his solitary room.

            _Major Kusanagi, Batou – be there._ Aramaki ordered.

            _Yes, sir!_ Motoko replied.

            _Right!_  Was Batou's reply.

            Behind Aramaki's reasoning was that she would feel more comfortable around people she was familiar with. After all, he wasn't sure if she'd had any family alive. For now, she was just a Jane Doe.

           

**~o~o~o~**

            Their arrival was timed well. From what the staff had told them, Jane Doe was finally awake and she'd had lunch in her room moments before. Aramaki stood at the nurses' desk and filled out papers.

            “What room is she in?” The old man asked, flipping through the sheets. Typically, when a person was hospitalized there was no way that any of the staff could affirm or deny a person's presence on the ward. However, since it was Section 9 who'd found her – she was their responsibility. She was no danger to herself or others so the admission was ordered by the courts. Aramaki had gotten this done rather quickly.

            “In room 408E.” The receptionist replied.

            “Go greet her, Batou. I'll fill out the rest of these papers and see you in a minute.” Aramaki remarked, staring at the paperwork.

            The soldier nodded, heading in the direction the nurse had pointed. The ward had the typical décor that any hospital would have. It was better than dismal, white walls. On one wall was a dry erase board with the list of patients and their nurses. On the other was the daily group schedule, meals and when medicine would be administered.

            Mr. Aramaki would have sent Motoko to see her but felt it was best for her to see someone she knew. She hadn't met the Major. This would frighten her less.

           

            Taking in a deep breath, she sighed. This was just great. First, she had lost Paris and now she was locked up in some asylum without her permission. That, and she was in Japan of all places! She didn't understand hardly anything people were saying and couldn't read the instructions on the dry-erase boards.

            At least she didn't have to deal with those monsters anymore. She prayed she never would witness anything like that ever again. Her roommate had lent her a stuffed bear to keep her from freaking out. Miranda sat at the edge of her bed, with one leg curled up on it and a bare foot on the cold floor, looking at the thing.

            On her bed stand was a piece of paper where she'd written down the patient phone number down nearest her room repeatedly. She didn't want to forget it. Who one earth would come see her at this hour, anyway? It's not like that hunk was ever going to see her again. Again, she sighed heavily, staring down at the one-eyed toy that was supposed to give her comfort.

            She could have easily lied down in bed and daydreamed about their next grand meeting. Easily. But she didn't. Love stories like that didn't come true, anyway. Hopefully, they would be able to look up her Social Security number and contact her family in Illinois. They would be the ones to rescue her now – not some fantasy guy of hers.

            That was when she heard a knock on the doorframe.  It must have been the physician that was going to come in an examine her. As if on habit, she grabbed the paper off the bed stand and headed for the door.

            Lifting her head and walking out toward the lit hallway, she stopped in her tracks when from around the corner was the very man who'd rescued her the night before!

            “It's _you!_ ” She cried, leaping on him. Her arms went around his neck and she rested her head against his neck and chest.

            “Whoa, whoa!” He said, trying to pull her off, “No need to burn the goose before it's cooked!”

            With her hair close to his face, Batou noticed that she smelled of flowers. Was that rosemary?

            Miranda didn't realize until now that she probably made him uncomfortable. She loosened her grip and stepped back.

            “I'm so sorry!” Her eyes smiled nervously.

            “No problem. What is your name, anyway?”

            “Miranda Sulley.” She replied.

            “...On the file you're down as Jane Doe. Maybe if–“

            “Hey! I just met you – and this is crazy!” She handed him her paper, “But here's my number. So, call me maybe~?”

            If he had eyes he would have blinked. Seriously. What kind of pick-up line was that? He looked down at the paper. She had scribbled a number on it several times. Shaky handwriting, too.

            She did have a cute face – but this was another mission. He had to keep a professional demeanor, despite her showy form of affection.

            “What's your name?” She smiled. Her arms were behind her back and she twisted back and forth at the waist. It was typical behavior of bubbly women, he presumed.

            “Batou.”

            “Did you come alone? And when am I allowed to leave? I'd like to go home.” _With you, of course._

“I actually came here with the Chief and the Major of Section 9.” He replied. His clothes were a little more casual than the uniform he'd worn the night before. Miranda didn't hesitate to look him over. “Hey, keep your eyes up here. I'm talking to you.”

            “What's Section 9?” Her eyes zipped back up to his.

            “That will be explained soon enough,” An old man approached with a woman at his side. He spoke in English, “We're going to be asking you a few questions, Miss Sulley.”

            “Are you a doctor?” She hugged the bear to her chest.

            “No. I am Daisuke Aramaki, Chief of Section 9.” He replied, “Let's discuss this in your room. I'm going to be closing the door as to keep our conversation private.”

            They went back into the room, the door sliding shut. Being a psychiatric ward, these doors never truly _shut_ – and they didn't have locks. This was the best they were going to have, though.

            “Tell me. What is your full name?” Aramaki asked.

            “Miranda Marie Sulley.” She answered.

            “What is the date?” His questions continued.

            “July fourteenth, twenty-sixteen.” She replied. Batou moved slightly, a bit surprised. The other two made no reactions.

            “Where are you from?”

            “I'm from Washington, Illinois of the United States.”

            “Do you know what happened to you before you came here?” His brows rose. That was when she explained everything that she'd witnessed and experienced from the time her and Paris had brunch at the LaFayette hotel. It was a long story that intrigued the Chief. He'd not heard anything like it.

            _Ishikawa,_ Aramaki thought, _I want you to gather all the information on the terrorist attack that happened in Queens, New York in the summer of 2016._

“Do you know what the actual date is, Miss Sulley?” He asked.

            “Not at all, Sir. No one bothered telling me.” She replied.

            “It's the fifth month of the year twenty-thirty.” He watched her expression sink. She sat down on the bed and looked away.

            “We're going to take you back to Section 9 and do a series of tests. We want to know if you'll turn into one of those despicable creatures that the Major had to take care of.”

            “You can't kill them,” Miranda replied, “The doctors back in New York said that the only way to contain the virus is to freeze those infected with it. I was told that they'd come up with an antidote for it – but I haven't been inoculated yet.”

            “An antidote?” Aramaki looked from her to Motoko and then back.

            “They said that as long as I did as they told me I would receive it.” Miranda replied.

            “That was one of the laboratories that _Gifts of Paradise_ was running.” Motoko said.

            “What?” Finally, they had put a name to it.

            “We were investigating a case there just a few floors above. If Section 9 wasn't there then you would have never been rescued and had become another victim.”

            Miranda shuddered.

            “You don't seem to be suffering the symptoms of having a virus in your system,” Aramaki interjected, “You should be safe to be discharged from the hospital and come to one of our locations to be tested. As soon as we rule out any serious threat – we'll get you to the American Embassy here in Japan and send you back home to be with your family.”

            “But what about Paris?” Still, she worried.

            “...Everyone that was in that lab died. There were no signs of life anywhere after you departed with Batou.”

            Her eyes widened. Bringing her hands to her face, she closed her eyes harshly and started sobbing. She'd lost a good fifteen years of her life and now she'd lost her best friend?

            “The request papers for your discharge have been filled out. We should be leaving within the hour under my guardianship.”

            “Guardianship?” Miranda looked over her hands, “You're my family now?”

            Aramaki didn't reply to that and walked out of the room, “I'll be seeing you shortly. Stay here, Major. She'll need to be escorted off the premises.”

            “Yes, sir.” Motoko replied. Behind him, Batou followed. The husky man turned to wave at her and then left.


	2. Safe Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda moves in with Batou.

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Chapter Two**

**_Safe Bonding_ **

 

 

            Again, she was forced to stare at a white ceiling. Miranda lied there, bored out of her freaking mind, wondering if she was to live the rest of her life as a lab rat. This was indeed the worst kind of day she could imagine. Staying in the same room for the past three days was driving her insane.

            If anything, didn't they bother to give her any company? The nurses that came in were impersonal when they came to take her blood, vitals, give her food, ask for urine samples. The typical way most hospitals went. Miranda wondered if this _Gifts of Paradise_ place would give Section 9 the supposed antidote that they'd had in their clutches. Or would there be a political war between the two because of her? She had no idea.

            “Miranda?” The voice was familiar. She sat up in her bed to see the Major standing at the foot of her bed. “I figured you would like some company. I'm sorry I haven't seen you again in the last few days. I was committed to seeing the last mission through. How are you?”

            “I'm doing okay, I guess.” Miranda shrugged.

            “You certainly took Batou off guard.” Motoko chuckled.

            With a blush, Miranda answered: “B-But I apologized to him already!”

            That was met with: “Don't worry about it. He needs the attention. It's been a long while since he...”

            “Since he _what?_ ” Miranda's eyes sparkled.

            “It'd be better for him to explain it.” Motoko nodded, her platinum colored hair bouncing around her face slightly.

            “I'm bored. Is there anything I can do in here? Like read a book? ...Do you have a deck of playing cards? That is – if you've got time to play a few games.”

            “I'm sure I've got the time.”

           

            **~o~o~o~**

            “She's completely organic without any modifications,” Aramaki stated as they walked down the hall, “It's a very interesting situation. Miranda Sulley – United States. The facts line up on paper – and I sense no guile in her. The chart says she has bipolar disorder and is mildly retarded.”

            “I bet she's wondering when she'll be able to get medicine.” Batou replied, following behind.

            “It would be less expensive to install a chip to balance her moods than to administer medicine.”

 

            By now, the two women were playing a card game on Miranda's bed. After she set a card in the discard pile, she said: “...I've never seen anyone with red eyes before. Is there something wrong with you?”

            There was a slight smile as Motoko replied: “It's just the body that was available.”

            “ _What?_ ” Miranda blinked. She was confused.

            “I was human once. I could not serve with that body so I opted to have my ghost and memory swapped into a mechanical body.”

            “And you _survived?_ ” Miranda's words were spoken with a gasp.

            “Yes.” There really wasn't much else to say about that. Section 9 had already been explained to her on a need-to-know basis. Motoko lied a card down and there was a long moment of silence.

            “Say, Big Sis –“ Did Miranda really refer to her as _Big Sis?_   “Could you tell me about Batou?”

            Again, the Major chuckled. “If you want to know – why not ask him yourself?”

            Randi dropped her hand down onto the bed and shyly pouted. She pressed her index fingers together.

            “Ah, the shy type?” Humans still had flaws, though, didn't they? Should bashfulness be considered a mental illness and treated? Or was that what made a person human? “Might as well make your intents known right away so you can get the rejection or reciprocation over with. To drag it on like some shojo drama is rather childish.”

            Then and there, Miranda realized she needed to take matters into her own hands. She nodded confidently with a grin.

            “I could see if he wants to visit you – that way you can get down to business, right?” Motoko put a finger to her lips as in a hush and winked at her.

            “Right.” Another card was lied down, “And I'm out. Looks like I win this one!”

            “But I won the whole game. After all, it was 4 to 1, I believe?”

            “Yeah it was.” There was a knock at the door. They both turned to see Aramaki enter the room.

            “I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, Miss Miranda.” He firmly stated.

            She gathered the cards together and put them in the box, “What's wrong, Mr. Aramaki?”

            “The test results say that you _are_ , in fact, infected by a virus. Ishikawa did some research on the incident and everyone who was victim to the terrorist attack in Queens disappeared. It was indeed aired in the media but not gone into detail. There are assumptions as to who was behind the attacks but no solid evidence to show any culprit. Not even today. As far as an antidote – we don't possess such a thing today. I apologize. We cannot send you back to America until we have solved this case. I promise, we'll have the best doctors working on a cure for you – but such a thing may not be possible. The good news is – it cannot be transferred virally. However, you cannot mix bodily fluids or blood with anyone until we can find a way to deal with this.”

            Great, it wasn't like she was going to get laid any time soon, anyway.

            “We're investigating _Gifts of Paradise_ as we speak. I have the feeling they're going to want to take you into custody. I cannot allow that if it means the virus can mutate inside of you and turn you into a monster.”

            “So, you're going to keep me safe?” Miranda stood.

            “Certainly. We wouldn't want the secrets to your DNA to cause havoc across the globe.”

            “Do I have to stay in this room all the time, though? I mean, even though this place is probably all “top secret” and stuff, it's not like I understand Japanese anyway. Besides, I haven't had my medicine in three or four days. I don't want to go into a manic phase and start hallucinating or having some grand delusions.”

            “You'll have a chip and other low grade modifications made.”

            “What? You're going to have someone perform _brain surgery_ on me?” Miranda was taken aback.

            “Believe me, it's a lot safer these days –“

            “But what about what I want? I need my medicine!”

            “It would be a lot less expensive for you to have implants than to take medicine. That is what you're going to do as long as Section 9 is paying for it – do you understand?”

            Seeing as he took charge of the situation, she nodded.

            “Besides,” He turned toward the door, “That toxic cocktail you took in 2016 has worse side effects than anything imaginable. Your liver is going to thank me for it.”

            She had nothing else to say to that. Her eyes shifted to Motoko. They stared at each other for a brief moment, quiet. What else was there to talk about?

            “And I'll figure out your living situation soon.” Aramaki started walking, _Come with me, Major. I need to discuss something with you._

            “Um, I need to go right now. I have work related stuff I need to catch up on. It's been nice keeping you company. I'm sure I'll visit again soon, okay?” Motoko moved to leave as well.

            “See ya later, Big Sis.” Miranda lightly waved.

 

            **~o~o~o~**

           

            It had been nearly a month that Miranda had stayed with Section 9. She was starting to hate the building she had memorized top to bottom. A lot of things went on in there. Those of which she was bound by oath that she would not divulge any workings therein. She'd gotten her implants through what she thought was a painless process. She had learned that with these devices inside of her that she could communicate telepathically – which caused her much anxiety. Of course, no one could read deep into her ghost without her permission – because even those have firewalls of sorts – but she couldn't help but be super bashful about it. The only two she'd shared such a connection with were Mr. Aramaki and Motoko.

            Honestly, she preferred texting or talking on a cell phone to doing so with her head.

            And seeing as the Japanese government wanted to save money, they requested that Mr. Aramaki released Miss Sulley back to the United States because she was suffering no symptoms. They felt it safe enough for her to return home and assimilate into that culture once again.

            Inasmuch, they contacted the Foreign Affairs office to take care of the situation. Because of bureaucracies, they sent a social worker to come and interview her. The whole Section that met him thought he was a whiny, snot-nosed, little bitch. Miranda agreed with the whole sentiment, watching the young man take in the sights of what he was allowed to see of the building. Honestly, though, she was just going to fuck with him.

            She had no intentions of returning to the States simply because she wanted a cure before she returned home. It would be a nightmare for her to morph into a beast and eat her family members.

            Miranda led him to Aramaki's office. The old man was glad to see him.

            “Now, who exactly is it that you've befriended here, Miss Sulley?” The social worker asked.

            “Well, about four people so far. I mean, I get along with the rest but they typically ignore me.” She answered.

            “I'll ask them to come in,” Aramaki nodded. Not a moment had passed with Motoko, Batou and Togusa entering the room.

            “And who are these people to you?” The guy had to be younger than Miranda. That, and he had a whiny, almost Beverly Hills, rich-white-boy accent. He pushed up his glasses. For some reason it was important for him to understand how she got along in her interpersonal relationships.

            Miranda pointed at Aramaki, “Papa.”

            At Motoko, “Big Sis.”

            Batou, “Boyfriend.”

            “B-b-b-b-boyfriend?!” Batou jumped.

            Then to Togusa, “And that cop that keeps coming to do the diner asking for coffee and apple pie. I can't remember his name.”

            “You've been here a freaking _month_ and you don't know my name?!” Togusa growled.

            “ _Did nobody notice she made a romantic claim on me?!_ ” Poor Batou. He was being completely ignored.

            Of course, the social worker had no idea the real workings of Section 9. He wasn't meant to, though.

            “Haha. You have a lovely sense of humor, Miss Sulley. Now, I've got to go and fill out more paperwork. We still have an appointment on the 2nd of July at 9am, correct?”

            Miranda nodded, “Yeah. We certainly do.”

            “Now, just to get you ready to come home.”

            “What if I don't want to come home?”

            “I'm afraid you have no choice, my dear.” He took off his glasses and wiped one of the lenses down with a cloth from his pocket, “If you stay any longer the Japanese government will have to take stronger measures to get you out of the country.”

            “They'll deport me?” She blinked.

            “Not without good cause.” Aramaki continued, “You may leave now, Mr. D'Santis.”

            “I'll be seeing you on the 2nd, Miss Sulley. Have a good day.” He replied, taking his bag in hand and heading for the door. Togusa opened it up for him and closed it after he was gone.

            “Well. That went well.” Miranda puffed up a cheek. What were they going to do now?

            “Did nobody care that –“ Batou started.

            “Quiet, Batou.” Aramaki silenced him, “We're in the process of having living arrangements, Miss Miranda. I've decided that we cannot leave you alone otherwise you're at a high risk of kidnapping. The _Gifts of Paradise_ have already threatened to subpoena their way into getting their hands on you, I'm afraid. You're going to have to be somewhere unexpected.”

            “Oooh!” Miranda brightened up, “Do I get to stay with Big Sis?”

            It would be awesome to be able to sit up at night with Motoko and just discuss anything. Do each others' nails. Watch sappy television programs. Argue about household chores.

            “I'm afraid not.” Aramaki replied, “The Major has an efficiency with no extra room. Togusa has a wife and family and there is no room in his abode.”

            There was no way he would allow her to bunk with Batou. It would have been an adolescent dream come true – but she didn't want to intrude on him like that. Besides, co-ed was against the rules, right?

            “You're going to stay with Batou. His apartment has a spare room.”

            What a way to make things awkward, Miranda! Her claim on his romantic status was _just_ the thing she needed to blurt out before moving in with the guy. He probably hates her now and thinks she's some immature, love-starved twit!

            “And you're okay with this?” She turned to him.

            “...It's fine. We're just going to have to make arrangements like getting a bed.”

            “Can I have a western-styled bed?” Miranda looked at Aramaki.

            “If you like, Miranda.”

            “Oh good. I don't think my back would survive a futon.”

            “Then it's settled. You are going home with Batou this evening after the regular shift is over. If we have a new mission before then – then you'll go home when he returns.”

            “Understood.” Miranda nodded.

            _Aww, look at the sweet couple going home together for the first time._ Motoko teased.

            _Oh, shut up! You had this planned the entire time, didn't you?_ Miranda replied.   

            _Actually, no. This was the boss' plan, not mine._ Motoko replied.

            “Enough with the cute passing of notes in the middle of class,” Togusa grumbled. He noticed that the two women were silent, staring at each other. It was apparent what they were discussing, “Are we dismissed yet?”

            “You may go.” Aramaki sat down behind the desk, “Also, Miranda.”

            “Hm?” She turned to him.

            “Your new name is Keiko Aramaki. I'll be getting you identification cards soon. And it was a stretch to get – but the belongings you had at the hotel will be waiting for you at home.”

            “How on earth did you get those?”

            “The hotel staff had them in a storage unit, waiting for when you got out of your coma. Also, you'll be able to speak with your mother soon.”

            “She's still alive?” Miranda blinked, “What about my great aunt?”

            Aramaki had gathered the history on Miranda and knew that she was close to her great aunt Florence – the woman who had raised her when her own mother could not.

            “...I'm afraid she died eleven years ago. I am sorry.”

            Again, she blinked and turned to walk out of the room slowly. Her head was down. Batou watched her stride through to the exit before anyone else had. His hand went out to say something, but he'd stopped himself before he could.

            “Well, go after her – _lover boy!_ ” Motoko slapped him on the back to urge him to step forward.

            “...Why do I always get these shit jobs?” He pouted and left the room.

            _Oh, and Motoko?_ Miranda thought, out in the hall now.

            _Yeah, what is it?_ Motoko replied.

_...How do I turn this thing off, again?_

**~o~o~o~**

            To celebrate the coming of is new roommate – or rather, drown in his sorrows – Motoko took Batou and Miranda to their favorite bar. They were there for a good hour or so, with Miranda chattering away most of the evening. The alcohol must have gotten to her. She was acting quite tipsy. Motoko didn't really seem bothered by it.

            He assumed that she simply got head implants instead of other modifications like an alcohol diffuser. She was dancing around the bar with her martini in hand.

            _I hope she isn't always like this,_ Batou's thoughts reached the Major, _I mean, I'm going to be babysitting her for God knows how long._

_Why don't you whisper to her?_ Motoko replied.

            _I don't know. She's never connected with me before. I just assumed she didn't like me._ His brows rose as he took another drink.

            _The reason she hasn't connected to you is because she's shy, Batou. She really likes you. Why don't you ask her to dance?_ Motoko turned to watch her friend.

            Miranda planted herself against Batou's back, her hands massaging his shoulders.

            “Mmm! What a strong, sturdy back!” She smiled, “And a handsome face to go with it!”

            Feeling her bosom against him was indeed a thrilling experience – but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about him. He wasn't about to bring her home and take advantage of her. Surely, he joked a lot about doing such things, but he was a gentleman.

            “Off!” He brushed her away, “I can't do anything with you when you're drunk.”

            “Awh. You're so cranky! That's no fun.” She whimpered, “Oh!  Look! They're starting karaoke!”

            And off she went to put in her requests.

            When it came to her turn to sing, the Major couldn't help but cringe. After she was done, she came back to the bar for another drink. She squeezed between them to order.

            “You have a terrible singing voice, Miranda!” Motoko smirked.

            “Yeah, well, not all of us came with built-in autotune!” Miranda quipped.

            Batou burst into laughter.  The night was indeed getting better.

 

            “Ho man~” Miranda wobbled out into the dark. Batou held his roommate's arm over his shoulder as he led her through the parking lot to his car. “...I can't see a thing!”

            “Honey, you're drunk.” He replied, “Let's just get you home in bed and everything will be fine.”

            She plopped down in the passenger seat on the right side of the car. He closed the door behind her and went to get into his own side.

            “Holy shit!” She cried, “You're driving on the wrong side of the road! Quick! Get in the right lane before we hit a car...!!”

            “...I haven't even turned the car on.” If he could blink, he would have.

            “Oh my God~ Seasssickn–“ She opened the door and puked onto the concrete.

            “Glad you didn't do that in the car.” He waited for her to finish up before starting the ignition. “You done yet?”

            “...Ugh. Yeah.” She closed the door, “We should be leaving.”

           

            While they were driving, Miranda asked, “What's with those glasses all the time?”

            “Oh, these aren't glasses. They're my eyes.”

            “Y-..You're a robot like Big Sis?” She slurred.

            “Motoko is not a robot. She has a ghost, you know.”

            “Then what about you?” She poked his face.

            “I'm not sure if you'll remember this conversation, but I'll tell you. I'm human – I've just suffered many injuries that required prosthetics to keep me alive.”

            “Y- ...You can have sex?” Oh great, she was going to talk about _that._

            Batou sighed, “Yes, I can. Can we change the subject?”

            “Why did you say yes to having me move in with you?” Her speech slurred again.

            “Maybe because I care too much.” He replied, “There's something about you that makes me not ever want to say no to you.”

            He looked at her. She was asleep. Maybe she missed that last part? He'd never know.

 

            After being put on hold for the second time, Batou grumbled. At least Miranda wasn't a hassle to wake up. Finally, somebody answered. He turned away from her, talking with the salesman.

            “You mean the bed won't be delivered until tomorrow?” He sighed. “Right, right. Express shipping next time. Whatever. Bye.”

            He plopped down into his chair and sighed.

            “Where am I going to sleep, then?” Miranda's brows rose.

            “In my bed.” He rubbed his nose.

            “Together?” She blinked.

            “Right.” He gave a half smile, “Just go get ready for bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow.”

            “Do you have any music? I've been dying to sleep with some tunes.”

            “What format?” He tilted his head to the side.

            “I don't think you have any CDs?” She frowned.

            “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. They're in the spare room. Let's go get them.”

            When they got in there, she dug around through the box and picked out one.

            “Savage Garden? _You've_ got Savage Garden?” She giggled, “I wouldn't have expected it from somebody as macho as you.”

            “Yeah, well, nobody's perfect.”

            “I'll just take this boombox and play it in the room. You have a good night, okay, Batou?”

            “Right. Goodnight.” He was left to his own devices back in the living room. Once the bedroom light was turned off, he took another swig of his beer. The apartment was dark. He sat in his chair and watched the lights from outside bounce around the walls.

            _It smells like him,_ Miranda noticed as she stuffed her face against a pillow. This was the best sleep she'd get in a long while.

 

            _I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy_

_I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need_

_I'll love you more with every breath_

_Truly, Madly, Deeply do_

_I will be strong, I will be faithful because I'm counting on a...._

Batou leaned his head back and sighed.


	3. Fabricated History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bo peep bo peep bo peep AH!

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Chapter Three**

**_Fabricated History_ **

****

_Batou seems pissed about the arrangement._ Motoko whispered to her boss.

            _He's not._ Aramaki replied, _More than likely he's squealing like a school girl inside._

_You think so?_ The Major followed him through the hall.

            _Batou hasn't had any company outside of work in a long time._ He replied, _The man is lonely, Major._

_But how can you tell?_ Even _she_ was oblivious, _He's always laughing and fooling around._

_Basic psychology, Major: Those who laugh the loudest are typically the saddest._ He replied, scanning his hand to unlock the door.

            _So, this is more than keeping the American safe._ She followed him out. They took the elevator.

            _It's for his own good._ Aramaki pressed a button for the first floor.

            _Keiko is an interesting name._ Motoko continued, _Didn't you have a daughter named Keiko?_

_Keiko-chan died when she was 20. Because of that I joined the police force and worked my way up through the system._ He replied.

            _And your wife?_ This was the most Motoko had ever pried into her boss' business. Once outside, they got into a car together.

            _A year later she died of heartbreak. The loss made her very ill._ He replied, buckling in. _That was before having synthetic bodies was a well-known trade._

_And you've been alone ever since._ Motoko looked over at him.

            _Missing them will never stop,_ He replied, smiling at her, _But I have a new family to take care of now, Major._

            A small smile crept up on her face, as well.

           

            **~o~o~o~**

It was only a car ride to the library. All it took was a swipe of her fake identification card, the new address and a telephone number and she was into the system. Miranda stared down at the library card that read _Aramaki Keiko_ with a line of numbers and a barcode.

            She walked with Batou through the library and up a flight of stairs. He set her down at a wooden table that was bare save for a metal donut that was plugged into an outlet.

            “What's this?” She asked, sitting there. He stood beside her with a hand on the back of her chair. He picked it up and placed it over her head.

            “It's a computer.” He replied, leaning in.

            “ _This_ is a computer?” It fit snugly around her neck.

            “Yep.” He hit the power switch. She could hear little gears whirl around before a screen popped up in the air.

            Blinking, she asked, “Can you see the holograms?”

            Her eyes bounced this and that way, trying to take it all in.

            “Not yet.” He took out a wire from the back of his neck and attached it into an outlet on the back of hers.

            “Whoa!” She cried.

            “Don't worry,” He assured her, “I can't enter your ghost without your permission.”

            Her face turned red.

            “Sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you. Tap on the _Log In_ option.”

            She brought up a hand and daintily touched it with her fingertip.

            “Use the code on your card and create a passcode.” He leaned in over her, able to see the image as well. “The first thing you're going to learn is Japanese.”

            Batou guided her step-by-step. He was patient with her. After all, this was her first time learning anything like this.

            One of the things that she had to learn about was the real Keiko Aramaki and to act as her American daughter. All of the new information was already in the system, thanks to Ishikawa. What she had to do now was act the part and the history would make sense.

            _How tragic,_ She whispered to him, _She died so young in a car crash._

_In America, mind you._ He replied.

            _So, that's why it's so easy to use this identity._ By now, she was used to tapping through the screens to get to the information she wanted.

            “Anything else you want to learn?” As if learning the language was hard enough – she had to acquaint herself with Asian etiquette and the history of Japan.

            “I'd like to know what happened in America after the events in 2016, if you don't mind staying a bit longer.”

            “That's fine. We've got time.” He nodded, reading as well.

            About ten minutes passed before she logged off.

            “I guess we're about done here.” She stood up.

            “Yep.” He unhooked the wire and it zipped back into place.

            _If you really wanted to see my soul,_ She looked him in the eye, _You could have. I wouldn't mind._

Now it was _his_ turn to blush.

            _You wouldn't bare that to just anyone_ , _right?_ He asked, watching her walk away from him toward the stairs.

            _Of course not, goofy._ She replied.

            Batou gulped. Best to play the cranky card so she wouldn't get any ideas. Who called their ghost a _soul_ , anyway? Wasn't that some outdated religious term?

            “Yeah, well – I'm hungry.” He practically growled, “And no beer for you. I'm not having another episode of last night. Not in _my_ car.”

            “Right, right.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. He followed her down the stairs.

           

            When, in all truth – _he wanted her, too_.

           

**~o~o~o~**

            “Holy shit!” Miranda cried from the other room. Upon hearing this from the living room, Batou nearly spilled his beer.

            “What's wrong?” He asked.

            “It's been fifteen years and the battery on my iPod is still full!”

            “ _Holy shit,_ indeed.” He replied, “Apple's known for that, though.”

            She brought in the boombox and hooked up the iPod.

            “Awh,” Batou whined, “Don't play any more of that sappy love shit. Might turn me homo.”

            He took another drink, watching her.

            “You? Like hell.” She replied, “Fine.”

            She put on a piece that had that familiar saxophone riff.

           

            _Aishiteta to nageku ni wa_

_Amari ni mo toki wa sugite shimatta_

_Mada kokoro no hokorobi o_

_Iyasenumama kaze ga fuiteru_

 

            “Whoa,” He stated, “That's an old one.”

            “Gotta love _The Real Folk Blues_. Classic.” Miranda smirked, “You like anime?”

            “Not really,” He replied, “I prefer cop shows – but it's Japanese for once. Can't complain.”

            “What are we doing for dinner?” She asked.

            “Eh, I thought we'd order out.” He shrugged.

            “The hell?” She puffed up a cheek, “I've been here a week and all we've done is eat out! Don't you have any food?”

            “Um...” Before he was able to answer, she'd zipped into the kitchen to open the refrigerator.

 

            _THE REAL FOLK BLUES_

_Honto no kanashimi ga shiritaidake_

_Doro no kawa ni sukatta jinsei mo warukuwanai_

_Mo ichido yasurakani nemuretara_

“...Okay, so you've got M&Ms and – gallons upon gallons –“ She looked through, “...of _beer?!_ ”

            “Hey!” He got defensive, “I was a bachelor before _you_ came along!”

            “I'm going out tomorrow while you're at work.” When she came back, she held out a hand, “Gimme.”

            “Give you what?” If he could blink, he would have.

            “Money, goofy! I'm going grocery shopping!”

            “Eh...” He pulled out his wallet and handed her all his cash. She counted through it and gave him some back for the delivery food they'd have that evening. He also handed her his credit card, “Use that if there isn't enough.”

            _I hope I don't regret this._ Were his thoughts.     

 

**~o~o~o~**

            “What the _hell_ did you do to my apartment?!” Were his words when he walked in from work.

            “Well, the thrift store didn't accept credit – so I used the cash there. The food in the fridge was on credit and –“

            “No, _seriously!_ What the hell, Miranda!” He'd never had curtains on any of the windows since he moved in. There was a western styled table against a wall in the living room and all of his furniture was rearranged. As he walked through the house, he noticed the kitchen was no longer a bland off-white.

            “Sorry, I haven't put away the dishes yet.” She said, walking with him. They were in a pile on the counter, “I threw away those two butter tubs you used as bowls. Oh, and you have more silverware than a simple spoon and fork. Using that hunting knife as a dinner knife isn't sanitary at all. You can thank Wal-Mart for your new set of knives and –“

            Batou put his hands on head and walked back into the living room. He had to piss. Or maybe puke, because of all the money she spent, but who was to judge him?

            It wasn't the fact that he'd owe anything on the credit card. If anything, he could probably pay it back in three paychecks – but it was the mere fact that she would do such a thing that overwhelmed him.

            Even the fucking bathroom was decorated with seashells and blue shit _everywhere_. And it was clean! He hadn't cleaned the thing since – ...Well, _ever_.

            “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” He hyperventilated as he watched the stream of urine. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

            “If you shit – light the candle!” She informed. There was even a fucking scented candle. What the fuck possessed her to redo the apartment? Oh God, he didn't want to see his bedroom. Her room would have been fine, decorated – but his? There was stuff he didn't want her to get into.

            “Do I _want_ to go into my room?” He asked her as he came out.

            “Unless you want to sleep with me, I suppose you have no choice.” Her smile looked a little sadistic. At least in his eyes. He took steps toward the room and the first thing he saw were curtains on the windows. They had rubber backing that let little light in. His futon was the same and there were only little bits of redecorating. It wasn't too bad.

            “Oh, and I put your dirty magazines in a crate so you don't lose them.”

            “You looked at my dirty –“ He jumped.

            “Yeah, and a few of them were crusty so I threw those away.” She nodded.

            “... _Those were my favorite ones._ ” Imaginary waterfall tears fell from his eyes.

            “Yep.” Miranda left him with that into her own room around the corner. He followed her.  There he saw that she bought an office desk and a few Rubbermaid dressers. She also had a bookshelf that only had three books on it.

            “What's in the dressers?” He pointed at them.

            “Well, not a lot now. I'm hoping to gather some art supplies and start painting again.”

            “You paint?” He rose a brow.

            “And I write too. I didn't see any computers at Wal-Mart that I liked. They were all donut dealies like those we had the library. I want an old fashioned computer. You know, with a tower and a monitor that doesn't pop up in my head?”

            “I could get you one of those. Just let me ask Ishikawa if he has any or if he can get some on the net.”

            “If it costs a lot of money, you don't have to.” She wiggled her nose.

            “I'm sure it would come real cheap if they're the old, clunky kind.” He smiled.

            “...Sorry if I upset you.” She frowned. Batou put his hand to the back of his head and laughed.

            “I certainly wasn't expecting this. I'm not mad, though. It'll take a minute to adjust to but...” He sighed, looking at the posters she had hung in her room, “...I'll get used to it. What are we having for dinner?”

            “Oh _shit!_ That's right!” She quickly moved around him, “I forgot it in the oven!”

            “Forgot something...?” He turned to watch her leave. Hell, she must have cooked something. Maybe even burned it. That was when he heard an egg timer ring.

            “Oh good!” She cried from the kitchen, “Just in time!”

            Batou sat down at the table. It was weird with as tall as the chairs were. He promised he'd adjust, though, right? He watched as she used potholders to carry a casserole dish. She set it down with a smile. The contents were steaming. Had he ever seen food like this?

            “I made quiche!” She grinned.

            “You can cook?” If he could blink, he would have.

            “My aunt Florence taught me a lot of the kitchen magics.” She gave a toothy grin, “Oh! And I bought wine. You know, to celebrate our one week anniversary!”

            “Anniversary?” Oh dear. He had the feeling she celebrated everything. Which wasn't too bad, if he got a hot meal out of it – but he didn't want her to take the _boyfriend_ business too seriously. After all, he wouldn't even be able to do so much as _kiss her_ because of the virus. She was lucky she wasn't stuck in a plastic bubble with no contact with the outside world. He didn't want to hurt her feelings.

            “Yep!” She put her hands on her hips proudly. “By the way, Batou – when is your birthday?”

            He frowned, “April 21st.”

            “Ah! You just had it. What a shame.” She left. What did she mean by that? When Miranda re-entered, she set plates down with silverware and a spatula for the food. Then she left only to come back with wine glasses and a bottle of wine.

            He took a breath and gulped. And he _did_ want to kiss her. Miranda Sulley had a way with brightening up his life – even if they'd only been together for a week.

            Taking the corkscrew in hand, he opened the wine. When it popped out, he poured her glass first and then his own.

            “Hey, Batou?” She asked.

            “What?” He set the bottle down.

            “How about you just call me Kei?” She smiled.

            “Why Kei and not Keiko?”

            “Like Kei and Yuri from Dirty Pair!” Her grin got bigger, “You know. Like our special thing!”

            “Our special thing.” He repeated after her.

            “Yep!” She brought up her glass and they gently clanked them together.

            “Bon appetit.” He nodded. However, his mood wasn't fair for the rest of the evening. It'd only been about a month or so since they'd met and already she was getting attached. This wasn't about disappointing her. It was about his own heart that would break.

 

**~o~o~o~**

 

            “Nice to see you again, Keiko-chan!” Aramaki greeted her by taking her hands in his own.

            “Aw! Oji-san!” She hugged him They were playing out the scenario that was given to them. By now, the bob she sported at the beginning had grown down past her shoulders.

            “How are things at home?” He smiled as they pulled away.

            “Oh, they're going great!” Keiko answered, “We just recently redecorated!”

            “Oh, did you?” He turned to look at Batou who said nothing but scratched the side of his face nervously while looking up at the ceiling.

            “Why don't you have your boyfriend show you around? I'm pretty sure you'd get along with the staff just fine.” The old man nodded.

            Batou's body turned extremely hot at that expression. Was he angry or just bashful? Whatever it was, this mania had better stop soon.

            Aramaki had long canceled any future appointments with her social worker and claimed that Miranda suddenly disappeared and they couldn't find her. He wondered, though, how long they could keep this up without tipping off their competitors. Their biggest goal was to find the antidote for her condition and to keep her from being used as a lab rat.

            With that, Batou showed her around. She pretended that all the information she sucked in was fresh and that it was a new experience for her.

            “What are these things?” Keiko asked as they entered the area the Tachikomas were kept.

            “We're Tachikoma!” One of them informed her.

            “You can talk?!” She reached out to touch one. It didn't move and her hand went to one of its blue armored legs.

            “Well, of course we can talk!” Another butted in.

            “These are the Tachikoma,” Batou nodded, “They're tanks with personality.”

            “Would that get in the way of missions, though?” Her brows pressed together.

            “Of course not!” The first shouted, “We're far more intelligent than you are, probably. You're an organic being – you're capable of mistakes!”

            “And so are you if the math doesn't add up!” Keiko replied.

            “Don't worry about it, Kei,” Batou put his hand on one of them as well.

            “What's your name?” One of them zipped up.

            “Keiko Aramaki.” She answered.

            “Aramaki? Like the Chief Aramaki??”

            “Yep.” Batou replied, “I'm heading for the toilet. Make sure Kei stays out of trouble, okay?”

            “Yeah! Yeah! Anything for you, Batou!” That one brought up her arms excitedly.

 

            As he was leaving the men's room, Batou heard music from down the hall. It was some electronic mix with a heavy drum beat. The further he went, the louder the music got. Were they singing in Korean? Did he _really_ want to know?

            He pushed the doors open to the Tachikoma hall and noticed that Keiko was dancing with a weird tune and behind her, the tanks were mimicking her movement.

           

            _Follow me, follow me,_  
            nareul ttara, follow me  
            Naneun niga nan niga nan neomu joheun geol  
            I’m so sorry (so sorry)  
            na ttaemune ijen (na ttaemune ijen)  
            Hwanaeji marajweo useojweo ije geuman hwa pulgo

_Bo Peep Bo Peep Bo Peep Bo Peep_  
            Bo Peep Bo Peep Bo Peep oh!  
            Bo Peep Bo Peep Bo Peep Bo Peep  
            Bo Peep Bo Peep Ah, Ah!

           

            And thus the Tachikomas Bo Peeped with Keiko. _Because I fucking said so_.

 

            _Oh God..._ Batou put a hand to his face and sighed.

 

            “Why is she teaching the Tachikomas this _useless shit?!_ ” One of the men cried, after returning from his lunch break. “Turn off that _fucking_ music! _NOW!!”_


	4. Humor in Orientation & Home Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't mind me. I'm a LITTLE retarded!"

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own McDonald's. I don't know who fucking does. You'll have to ask

Ronald McDonald. I do own the opinion that their frappes _ARE FUCKING EPIC_ , though. (:

 

           

**Chapter Four**

**_The Humor in Orientation & Home Visit_ **

****

            “You got _kicked out_ of Orientation for laughing too damned hard at a safety video?” Even Batou thought this was incredulous – and he was a clown, himself.

            “I couldn't help it!” Keiko whined.

            “What video were you watching?”

            “Something like a 911 emergency video.” She tried to contain her giggling, “...An old man fell down the stairs and I lost it.”

            Batou's shoulders shook, he was silently chuckling, “Did you ask him to rewind it?”

            “Fuck yeah, I did!” They laughed together. After a moment, she took a breath and said: “I'm going straight to Hell for this shit – you know that, right?”

            “I couldn't imagine spending eternity with anyone else.”

            “Oh shit –“ She opened the flap of her passenger bag and put in her notebook. “I'd better go before I'm late for the next class. See ya!”

            “See ya.” He smirked.

           

**~o~o~o~**

            This time she had every intent of keeping her cool. It was just so damned hard to take this stuff seriously, though. Yeah, they were very informative sessions about the workings of Section 9 – but the idea of something so super important just flipped that insanity switch in her brain. Maybe it was the fact that she was developmentally delayed?

            Keiko sat in her seat and took out her spiral notebook and a pen. She opened it to the first page. She'd selected a desk that was near the middle of the room – that way she wouldn't stand out to the instructor. She hated being called on for answers, especially when half the time she couldn't understand the material.

            They'd had about ten minutes to spare before their teacher showed and the room was filling up. All of these people were here to become a part of Section 9? She wondered if that was the real reason Mr. Aramaki requested she take the Job Orientation classes.

            What on earth did she have to offer the Section? She had no skills whatsoever and when she attempted college she failed miserably. For crying out loud –  when she was in Illinois, she worked at the McDonald's in East Peoria. Right around that beautiful Levee District they put up only a year or so prior to the terrorist attack in Queens. It was a shit job with shit pay – but she couldn't help but appreciate it.

            Taking in a breath through her nose, she wondered when she would be able to talk to her mom again. Mr. Aramaki hadn't followed through on his promise just yet. Maybe she should ask him sometime? With as good natured as he was, she had no doubt that he would relinquish that information.

            Keiko sucked in her lips a bit nervously. They popped out when the instructor entered.

            “My name is Souichiro Watanabe. You may call me Souichiro-sensei during the course of this class.” He wrote his name out on the dry-erase board. “Today we're going to discuss...”

            And he drawled on with his introduction. Already, she could feel herself become sleepy. Her eyelids were as heavy as an elephant on her head. She blinked, widening her eyes to stay awake.

            He said something about unloading a gun and she couldn't help but think something perverted and burst into hissing laughter. The instructor stopped the class and asked:

            “Is something the matter –“ He looked at his list, “Miss Aramaki?”

            “N-N-...Hahahaha!” She hugged herself and kept laughing. Eventually, her butt had scooted across the chair and she fell out of her seat in a roar.

            “...Are you okay?” He tilted his head, taking a step forward.

            Her hand shot up into the air, “Hahaha. Don't mind me! ...I'm a _little_ retarded! Hahahaha.”

            “Miss Aramaki you need to quit guffawing – we're in the middle of a class!” He warned her. She didn't stop.

            Eventually, a neighbor student started giggling. Then around her, spreading like wildfire, more laughter filled the room. Pretty soon, it was chaos.

            “Quiet!” Souichiro yelled in vain. “Stop this right now! Stop!”

            But it was unending. He almost started laughing but halted himself. He leaned through the aisle and took Keiko by the arm and led her out the door.

            “You are not welcome in this class. Not now – not _ever!_ ” He also threw her belongings out in the hall after her.

            “Batou! Come get Miss Keiko Aramaki in the hall outside the atrium!” The loudspeaker above announced.

            _What the hell did you do, Kei?_ He whispered.

            _You don't wanna know._ She replied.

**~o~o~o~**

           

            “I hope Papa isn't going to be pissed at me,” She pressed the pads of her index fingers together with a pout. She really did it _this_ time, didn't she?    

            “Be prepared for the old ape to yell at you.” Batou rubbed the back of his head. He pulled his ponytail somewhat, then let it go. He listened to her whimper as she sat in one of the chairs in Aramaki's office. “It's not too bad, though. I mean, he does it because he cares and wants better out of you.”

            Again, she whined as she stared down at the floor. He hated seeing her in this pitiful state.

            With a sigh, he said: “...If it makes you feel any better – we can do something fun today.  If we don't have any missions going on I can take you out to lunch.”

            He really wanted to make her feel better. The way she was acting made his heart ache. What was it that women liked doing? Oh, right, “And we can go shopping if you like.”

            “Really?” Her expression brightened.

            “If you're good.”

            “You guys making plans without me?” Aramaki entered.

            “Oji-san!” Keiko immediately stood.

            “I heard about your exploits in the Orientation courses.” He moved on through, “You're a shameless heathen and should be ultimately punished.”

            She gulped, sweating.

            “...I suppose military service isn't your fit. Where did you work before you got sick?” He asked.

            “McDonald's.” She replied without hesitation. She watched the old man's brows press together.

            “Do you have any talents?” He asked.

            “Not really.” She frowned.

            “Like hell!” Batou replied, “I read what you wrote on your computer.”

            “You know my password?!” She spoke in a gasp.

            “Not too hard to access.” He nodded, “But you're an incredible writer. I think you should finish a novel and get it published. You could be the next J.K. Rowling.”

            “You think so?” She brought her hands up to her face, gushing.

            “Hmm.” Aramaki watched them. Their chemistry was indeed something to watch. He smirked, knowingly. “You should take more time out of your day to write. You can visit us here any time – but you've got a novel to write. I hear National Novel Writing Month is coming up – it'd be nice if you participated. We can hook you up with a local NaNo group and you can make some friends while you're here.”

            “ _Really?_ ” She smiled brightly.

            “Batou,” He turned to him, “Buy her a nice word processing program for her computer. It's on me.”

            The soldier smiled. It was a relief that he wasn't going to scold her. Aramaki certainly had more mercy for her than anyone at Section 9.

            “Oh, and Papa –“ She started, “When am I going to speak with my mother?”

            “Yes. About that.” He went behind the desk to sit down. “I've got her cell number written down somewhere here.”

            Going through the drawers of papers, he looked for it. “Your mother doesn't have an address these days.”

            “Yeah,” Keiko answered, “It's typical of her to be homeless. She usually is this time of year. She has a bad habit of running from bills and accumulating debt. I'm pretty sure she's in Peoria somewhere.”

            “I'm sorry to hear that,” Aramaki replied. He took out a sheet. “Ah. Here it is.”

            He slid it to her across the wood surface. Keiko took it in hand and looked it over.

            “You can call her from my office phone.” He picked up the phone and dialed a code to get outside the line, “It's a private line so there will be no tracking you back here.”

            She nodded, taking the receiver. She handed him back the paper and he dialed the number himself.

            There was ringing on the line. She stayed quiet. With as much as it rang, she figured it would go to voicemail. Through her nose she sighed. Then someone picked up.

            “Hello?” Was a familiar voice. It was a little raspier than she remembered – but hell, fifteen years had passed and she probably aged.

            “Mom?” Keiko asked in English.

            “...Miranda?”

            “Yeah, it's me.” She nodded.

            “Hold on ya'll!” Her mom yelled at people in the background, “Ya'll shut up! My baby girl's on the line!”

            “Mom, are you okay?”

            “I could ask you the same question. Where the hell have you been?”

            “It's a really long story. I don't think I have time to go over it now. I'm in Japan right now.”

            “That would explain the private number on the caller I.D. The hell you doin' in China, babe?” It was apparent her mother was drinking again.

            “I said Japan. I was rescued.” Keiko could have cried. She placed a hand over her face, her shoulders shuddering.

            “They said everyone died in the terrorist attack in Queens. How the hell are you calling me?”

            “It's a miracle.” She replied.

            “Is Paris with you?” That was the hardest question yet.

            Taking in a breath, Keiko sighed heavily. “Paris is dead, Mom.”

            “...Oh, honey.” The tone on the line dropped, “So, you coming home, soon?”

            “I don't know. I'm a really popular person these days. Kind of trying to cover my trail, ya  know?”

            “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Was the reply.

            “Look, I've got to go. I'll get a hold of you soon.”

            “Okay, baby girl. I'll talk to you later. Love you.”

            “I love you, too, Mom. Bye.” And she hung up the phone. After doing this, she dropped her face into her arms and cried on the desk. Looking up with a sigh, Batou rubbed her back.

            “Do you want to see your mother?” It was an off the wall question – but enough to get her attention. She lifted her head to look at the old man. There was a loud sniffle before she replied.

            “What?”

            “Do you want to see your mother?” He asked again.

            “Y-Yes.” The sheer emotion was written on her face.

            “We're still looking into _Gifts of Paradise_. They have sites across the U.S. We found one in Peoria. You can go visit your mother and Batou can gather intel while you're there.”

            Her brows rose. She turned to look at Batou. The man simply shrugged. He was up for anything.

           

           

**~o~o~o~**

            Miranda entered the airport with her rolling bag behind her, a book bag on her back and her purse slung over her shoulder. Upon seeing the vastness of the terminal, she could feel her heart start to sink and the walls close in on her. She was becoming anxious.

            They had used Keiko's identity to get her a VISA.

            Batou walked up behind her, “We put our luggage over there.”

            He had a rolling bag with him as well and held their tickets, “I got our tickets. When we get there, we'll take a cab to the Holiday Inn Express. You okay, Kei?”

            “Batou, I'm scared. I've never been on a plane before. He long will it take to get to Peoria?”

            “A while,” He replied, “ _Relax._ We're sitting together. You have nothing to worry about.”

            “What if the plane crashes?”

            “Don't think like that!” He frowned, “We'll get you a club soda when we board. Hopefully, that'll calm you down.”

            She whimpered.

 

            It'd been a while since they boarded the plane. The take-off nearly resulted in a melt-down. Batou tried to say everything he could to get her to stop freaking out. And the worst thing about it? They set her by the window. He had half the nerve to trade seats with her – just to quell her anxiety.

            While they were in the air, she started hyperventilating.

            “Whoa, Kei – _Breath!_ ” He took out a sick bag and handed it to her.

            “Omigawd, Omigawd, Omigawd –“

            “Relax.” He pushed up the arm that split the seats in two and put his arm around her shoulders.

            “I'm having a – a – a –“ She gulped at air, “A panic! – A panic –“

            “Come here,” He said, “Lie on me for a bit.”

            Turning to lean into him, she put her own arm across him and lied her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating. The hectic breathing started to settle down as she matched the beats.

            “Now breath slowly,” He instructed her.

            There was a long moment of silence after that. Keiko had finally calmed down – but was it really over?

            “...You always did smell nice.” She said blankly.

            He chuckled, “Good hygiene, I presume?”

            “I love you, Batou.”

            He got really quiet after that.

 

**~o~o~o~**

“I can't believe it!” She cried as she twirled around, swinging the bags around her like it was some montage from The Sound of Music, “We're _actually_ in East Peoria! Fucking _East Peoria_ , Batou!”

            “Don't get too excited.” He replied, taking one of her bags from her, along with his own, “We haven't even seen your Mom yet.”

            The cab took off behind him. He rolled the bags behind him and followed her into the hotel. After registering they took to the elevator. When it dinged, they got off on their floor and headed down the hallway.

            “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She shook with excitement, walking backward with a bounce in her step. “I've never been here! I've only been to the Super 8 and Motel 6.”

            “Those cheap ass places?” Batou handed her the card key and she let them into the room.

            “Oh, come _on!_ ” She set her book bag down on one of the beds. “It's not like they had roaches or anything.”

            Miranda danced about, heading into the bathroom. “Holy cow!”

            “What is it?” He set the bags at the foot of one of the beds and followed her.

            “I could have _SEX_   in this tub!” There was a large tub in the middle of the room. He grunted. If he could roll his eyes, he would have. He left her to her own devices and checked to see if the phones were working. That was fine. Then he went to the window to check the blinds.

            There was no particular reason he acted so skittish about those objects. It wasn't that he really cared about such things – rather, he was trying to hide his own sexual frustration by acting meticulous.

            “I totally have to steal the soap when we leave. My Mom is really gonna need it.” She came back in and hopped onto the bed. Lying in the middle of it, her arms were outstretched and legs spread-eagle.

            “You look like a starfish on that thing.” Batou commented, sitting on the edge of his own bed and digging through his suitcase.

            “You didn't bring a lot.” She said, watching him as she lied there.

            “What is there to bring? Unlike you, I'm not moving in.” He teased with a smirk.

            “Isn't sharing a room so romantic? Too bad we couldn't have a single bed.” She smiled, her hair lying wildly on the quilt under her head. Batou didn't reply to her comment. Simply, he was looking for something.

            “What are you looking for?” She asked.

            “I'm seeing that I brought everything.” He hated lying.

            Miranda pouted then sat up. “They have free cable, right?”

            She picked up the remote and turned on the flat-screen television that hung above the short dresser. Flipping through a few channels she grumbled and hit the power button.

            “Nine hundred channels and nothing on. What's the use?”

            “What did you expect from American television?” He zipped his bag up again.

            Then she gasped.

            “What?” If he could blink, he would.

            “You wanna order a _porno_ later?!”

            “ _Miranda!_ ” He scolded, “That is totally inappropriate for our purpose here. Remember, this is about an assignment and not some love cruise.”

            She pouted while puffing up a cheek, dropping the remote on the bed and turned to play with the alarm clock. He was no fun at all.

            The only way they'd get anything done is if he played the cranky card. Usually, he was goofing around just as badly as she – but he didn't want to dive into romance only to be left let down. He stood there and stared at the floor while thinking about it. A familiar pang echoed in his chest.

            The radio on the clock played a local station.

            “Batou!” She waved a hand in front of his face, “...Earth to Batou!”

            He jumped a little.

            “What are you thinking about?” She asked, lying on her tummy and hugging a pillow under her.

            “Stuff you wouldn't understand.” He replied. “Shouldn't you call your mother?”

            “You got some cash on you?” She held out her hand. She was good like that.

            “Sure.” He took out his wallet and handed her a twenty.

            “She'll probably want to go out for coffee but will be broker than the backs of two homos on a mountain.” The joke went completely over his head.

            Unzipping her own bag, she pulled out a summer dress. And like that, she started stripping in front of him. Facing away from him, she kicked off her jeans.

            “Miranda!” He blushed, “You shouldn't be –“

            “Oh come on,” She said, changing her bra. All he could see was her bare back, “You've seen Big Sis naked lots of times. What's the big deal about seeing me in my panties?”

            His hand was lifted to come up with a good rebuttal but no sound came out. The dress was slipped over and she kicked off her tennis shoes. Sitting on the side of the bed, she took out a pair of Converse sneakers and put them on.

_Because you're different._ He thought.

            Miranda stood and put her hands on her hips, staring at him expectantly.

            “So, how do I look?” She asked.

            Was that a trick question? He didn't want to piss her off. His eyes trailed over her form – noticing how the dress shaped her around her hips and waist. Then they finally went up to her bosom. Her nipples were hard.

            Quickly, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

            “You uh –“ He started, “You look fine.”

            “We should rent a car – I don't want to go everywhere in a taxi!”

            “Yeah. Sure. Just call your Mom.”

            Plopping down on the bed, she picked up the phone to dial her mother's number.

           

 

**~o~o~o~**

            Seeing her mother in a cell at the Peoria Police Station was not what she counted as a good encounter. The woman had gotten drunk the night before and became a nuisance to the public. Miranda and Batou followed the officer down a long hall in the building until they got to a tiny holding space.

            “She should be sobered up by now,” He said, unlocking her door. Sliding it open, he continued, “Miss Sulley, it's time to leave now. Don't do this again, okay?”

            “Yeah, sure.” Wobbly, she got up from the cot. She wore two ragged coats over her, fingerless gloves and smelled of urine. Her hair was matted in a mess but when she saw Miranda her eyes lit up.

            “My baby girl!” The woman's hands went to cup her daughter's face. She hugged her close.

            “Oh, Mom. You getting in trouble again?” Miranda asked.

            The entire situation left Batou worried. She had said before that her mother had a habit of chronic homelessness. Working at McDonald's he knew Miranda would be unable to care for them both on top of paying for medicine for the bipolar, rent and whatever expenses she accumulated. He didn't doubt, though, that she would have let her stay every so often. It was a complicated situation.

            “Where's your glasses?” Miranda took the woman's bag.

            “They're in there somewhere. I haven't had time to clean it out.” Was her response, “I'm lucky I didn't have my stash in there. I would have _definitely_ been arrested then!”

            Her mother sniffled. When they got outside they could see that her eyes were bloodshot.

            “Mom?” Miranda frowned.

            “No, no. I just have allergies.” Was the typical reply.

            “No, Mom. You've been snorting cocaine.” This was one conversation Batou was staying out of it.

            “No, no. It's just –“

            “No, Mom. I know fucking better.” Miranda replied, “We're gonna go to the hotel to get you a bath and I'm going to give you some clothes.”

            “Do you want to go for coffee after that?” There was pain in her voice.

            “Of course, Mom. We're here to visit.” They got into the car. This time, Miranda was driving.

            “And who's this young man?” Her Mom leaned over the seat.

            “This is my boyfriend, Batou.” She replied. Batou had been so used to hearing this that he didn't even say anything in his defense. Deep down inside, it might have been a whisper his ghost was saying that he wanted it to be true.

            “What's up with the eyeballin' dealies?” She asked, “Is he a cyborg? Are you dating a robot, Randi?”

            “Mom –“

            “I know you're desperate for a man but I honestly thought you would have –“

            “I'm not a cyborg,” Batou replied, “I just have prosthetics and a lot of enhancement. I work in something like the police force – and it is well needed that I be in top condition.”

            “Ah!” Her mom nodded, “So he's a cop? That's a good job, Randi!”

            “Yeah it is.” Miranda nodded, turning on the ignition.

            Then out of nowhere, Mom asked: “...You on birth control, honey?”

            “Muh- _oooom!_ ” Randi growled.

            “You don't want to get pregnant, right? If he leaves you he'll be left with eighteen painful years of child support!” Reaching into her bag, she dropped a handful of condoms into the front seat. They fell over the gear shift and onto the floorboard on both sides. Batou's blush was unnoticeable.

            “Where the hell did you get those?!” Miranda pulled out onto the one-way street of S.W. Adams.

            “Planned Parenthood on Knoxville.” Her Mom replied, “I went there and got treatment when I had chlamyd–“

            “ _Ugh,_ Mom. We don't wanna hear that shit.” They turned right onto a nearby bridge when the light was green.

            “ _So,_ when are you guys getting married?” And thus the typical motherly twenty questions ensued. It wasn't the condoms that flustered him – it was the idea that the living situation between him and Miranda could possibly become permanent and he would be able to share himself completely with her. Without hesitation. Without regret. _Always._

With the virus and their supposedly professional relationship – after all, she was a victim and refugee of sorts – he felt that there was that wall between them. One that wasn't put up by either of them – but by Section 9.

            He set his elbow on the door with his head resting in his hand. He watched the scenery around them as they crossed the river. Coming into town from the airport he realized that there was a bread-like smell in the air. Miranda explained that it was not just pollution – but the fact that they'd had breweries in town.

            Beer sounded really good, right then.


	5. That Midnight Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Disclaimer:** This chapter is NSFW. You have been warned. 

 

**Chapter Five**

**_That Midnight Grind_ **

            “Have you talked to your club friends, yet, Randi?” Her Mom asked while sitting in the hotel tub, in a froth of bubbles all around. Miranda sat in a seat by the basin sink and shook her head.

            “No, I haven't.” She said.

            “You know Stacy is having her wedding in town this weekend. I think it's on Sunday. She invited me to it and said she reserved places for you, Paris and Mark at a reception table close to hers. They honestly still believe you're dead. Stacy is going to be getting ready for wedding things so I think it'd be best if you called Kendra. She made her the Maid of Honor you know.”

            “A wedding?!” Miranda was suddenly excited, “Who is she marrying? Is it Stephen?”

            “Nah. Her and Stephen broke up like five years ago. She's marrying some guy named Gregory. I don't know all the details because I haven't really talked to them over the years. They were _your_ friends, Randi, and it wasn't my place to pry. They _did_ invite me to the wedding, though.”

            “I have to go to this wedding!” Miranda chirped, “Do you still have Kendra's number?”

            “It should be in the Obamaphone. Call her from the hotel phone. I'm out of minutes right now.”

            With a quick nod, Randi rushed out of the restroom, squealing.

            “Uh oh,” Batou started, “You're up to no good again, aren't you?”

            It was night time already. The television glowed in the dark room but was on mute. He was digging through his suitcase, putting on the same black uniform he wore when they'd first met.

            “My friend Stacy is getting married this weekend, Batou!” Miranda squeaked.

            “Well, good for her.” He replied, buckling his boots as he sat on the edge of his bed.

            “Mom said I need to call Kendra.  I'm hoping we can go!”

            “ _We?_ ” Batou had the feeling she was going to drag him into one of her shenanigans again. 

            Randi dug through her mother's bag and took out her cell phone. She hit buttons to go through the contacts list. When _Kendra Wilson_ popped up, she brought up the number. Taking up the receiver from the hotel phone, she dialed it out. By now, she figured that Kendra was helping with last minute prep for the big day. Miranda wondered if they'd already had their bachelorette party. It would have been sad to have missed it!

            She listened to the line buzz.

            “Hello?” Was the answer on the other line.

            “Hey, Kendra?” Miranda asked. She watched Batou step into another boot.

            “...Who is this?” There was a hint of expectation in her voice.

            “Miranda Sulley. I'm in town and heard from my Mom that you guys are getting ready for Stacy's wedding!”

            “M-...Miranda?!” She gasped, “I thought you were dead! The news said everyone died when they attacked Queens!”

            “Well, I'm in town and was wondering how Stacy was doing.”

            “Hold on, Stacy's right here.” Kendra put it on speaker.

            “Is that Miranda?” Another voice popped up.

            “Yeah it is! Say hi!” Kendra replied.

            A group of girls answered together, “ _Hi Miranda~!_ ”

            “Girl, where you been?” Laquesha chimed in.

            “I heard you guys are prepping for a wedding. Sad you invited my Mom but not me!”

            “You are more than welcome here –“ Stacy replied, “In fact – if you've got time tomorrow, I want you to try on a dress. It was my intention to have you and Paris be part of my bride's maids party. Is Paris with you?”

            Miranda got quiet. It was bad enough that the girls mourned their deaths the first time around – but to hear the story again, well, it broke her heart to say. “...Paris isn't with us.”

            There was silence on their end as well.

            Taking in a breath, Laquesha said: “Well, Paris wouldn't want us to be sad. After all, this is the happiest day of Stacy's life. She would have wanted us to have the time of our lives! Now quit moping and let's fuck some shit up!”

            “If you don't have a date,” Kendra said, “You can take my cousin Matthew.”

            “Ugh, the braces kid?” Miranda cringed.

            “Hey! He's grown up quite a bit since you left. If anything, he might take you out on a date~.”

            “Oh no, I couldn't.” Miranda replied, “I have a boyfriend.”

            There were squeals on the other end. “You've got a boyfriend?! Might as well bring him!”

            “I wanna meet him!” Stacy bounced.

            “If he wants to go.” Miranda pouted.

            “Is he there?” Kendra asked, “We could ask him ourselves.”

            “Right.” Miranda put it on speaker phone and turned to him, “Batou.”

            “Hm?” He turned after tightening his ponytail.

            “The girls have a favor to ask you.” She replied.

            “What is it?” He asked.

            “Hi, I'm Kendra!” She said through the speaker, “What's your name?”

            “Batou.” He replied.

            “Well – _Batou_ – How would you like to be Miranda's date for Stacy's wedding on Sunday evening?!”

            There really was no reason for them to stay much longer than they ought to. Sure, she was there to visit her mother but all this side dawdling? He had to get his mission done first before they could really do anything else. For this, there would have to be phone call made to the Chief to inform him of their little... _detour_. As long as he did his job, it wouldn't hurt, right?

            “Sure.” He pulled on his gloves.

            There was incessant little screams through the line. Well, at least he made _somebody_ happy.

            “You're going to need a suit!” Stacy informed him, “Kendra is going to come pick you guys up in the morning to go to the bridal store. Be ready at 10am, okay? Where exactly are you guys, anyway?”

            “We're at the Holiday Inn Express here in East Peoria.” Miranda informed her.

            “The one over there by the library, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            “All right! We'll be seeing you guys then, okay?” There was a smile in Kendra's voice.

            “We love you, Randi!” Laquesha gushed, “See you tomorrow!”

            “See you tomorrow! Bye.” Miranda hung up the phone.

            “That's an interesting turn of events.” Batou said, “...I'm going out. I should be back before 3 o'clock if everything goes right.”

            “Be careful.” Miranda frowned.

            “I've got camouflage so there shouldn't be trouble. If that doesn't do the trick, I've got a gun and martial arts experience.”

            That certainly didn't make her feel any better.

            “Mom's staying the night here, if you don't mind.”

            “That's fine.” He replied, watching her stand up. He moved that way, looking down at her. It wasn't like it would be the last mission he'd ever be on but he couldn't help but feel her face was a magnet to his own – like he would lower himself to give her a goodbye kiss.

            Seeing what it was turning into, he jumped to stand straight and clear his throat.

            “Right. I'll see you later.” With that, he left. When the door closed behind him, Mom came out of the bathroom with the extra pair of pajamas Miranda packed and a towel wrapped around her head.

            “...Where's lover boy off to?” With the towel, she rubbed her hair dry.

            “Important stuff.” Miranda replied, “I think I'll just shower tonight before getting into bed.”

            “He must get paid good if you guys can afford a suite like this.” She nodded, sitting down on the bed.

            “Actually, his boss is paying for all this.” Miranda said, staring at the television. It was on CNN.

            “Oooh. Nifty.”

 

            Hours had passed by since that conversation. The television had long been turned off. The red numbers on the alarm clock glowed and reflected on the wood of the end table below it. Next to it lied a Bible left by the Gideons.

            On the floor there was a strip of light from between the cracks of the door to the bathroom. Miranda lied on her side, facing the wall that separated the two rooms. Her mother – whose name was Tabitha – lied on her back, staring at the ceiling that had been dimly illuminated by their night light. They shared a bed.

            “There's something that bothers me,” Tabitha remarked, wondering if her daughter was awake.

            “What is it?” Was the quiet reply.

            “...I've never seen Batou once be affectionate. He doesn't kiss or touch you hardly at all.” Tabitha frowned.

            “...He's just warming up to being around you.” Miranda replied.

            “But your feelings.”

            “Momma, I _love_ him. That's what matters, right?”

            “But does _he_ love _you?_ ”

            “I... I don't know.” Was Randi's honest reply.

            “Is he _really_ your boyfriend?” Now, Tabitha was stern.

            She was met with a whine.

            “...There must be something there,” Her mom said, “He didn't deny his title – or is it just part of the job?”

            “Living together is part of the job. Our feelings are not.” Miranda curled up tighter. She was starting to feel a sinking ache in her heart.

            “...His boss made you live together?” Tabby's brows rose, “Isn't there rules about cohabitation with clients? Especially, of the opposite gender?”

            “I don't know,” Miranda replied, “It's just how it ended up.”

            “...So, you forced your feelings on him. You know that's not nice at all, Randi.”

            “I couldn't help it,” Miranda frowned. She could feel a hint of tears forming the corner of her eyes, “I mean, I thought I was going to die. When I woke up, I thought it was all a dream and I jumped on the opportunity. I was acting obnoxiously. I'm sorry for that. Batou and I get along just fine – he seems cranky sometimes but... I can't help but feel...”

            “...Unrequited love.” Tabitha sighed. She placed her hand against Randi's back and pet it for a bit. “You haven't slept with him, right?”

            “No, I haven't.” Miranda replied.

            “Better for your heart, then. Just put this behind you and get some sleep. I'm sure we can figure out getting you a place here in the Peoria area again. You're a smart girl; you'll figure it out. In the meantime, you're going to have an exciting time this weekend. Enjoy yourself.”

            “Mom?”

            “Yes, baby?”

            “...When the wedding is over, you promise to be admitted into the Proctor Addiction Recovery program?”

            There was a pause.

            “...Yes. Goodnight.”

            “Night, Momma.”

**~o~o~o~**

        Night time had long fell before he'd left the hotel. Batou didn't need to park somewhere inconspicuously. There were plenty of places to park after five o'clock. He'd left the car a few blocks away from the office building that was placed in the downtown area of Peoria area a few blocks from the Bob Michel bridge. People were walking down the sidewalk from entertainment at the Civic Center or to either a sports bar or Irish pub. It wouldn't have been unusual to see them in crowds on a Friday night.

            Even though he could have blended in with the groups of people – he did not. He wore the invisible camouflage. Walking on the lawn of the building, he'd already spotted guards just inside the glass doors at the front of the building thanks to the holographic map and GPS settings awarded him by Ishikawa. Standing against the wall outside the main entrance, Batou smirked as he took out a few firecrackers. Upon lighting them, he threw them into the yard. They started sputtering, causing flares and crackling.

            As they were exploding, the guards left their post to see what the racket was. One of them stood with the glass door wide open. Seeing his opportunity, Batou went right on in as the other examined the area.

            _All right, I'm in!_ Batou whispered to Ishikawa.

            _Just follow the green hallways on your map,_ The man answered, _There's a few more guards just outside the security office. Be on your guard._

_No problem._ Batou smirked under his guise.

            As he trailed down the path, he noticed men standing in the corridor. With a simple kick, he knocked one out and threw him into the other guard before he could even be alarmed and alert the other guards. That one remaining, he pistol whipped.

            Grabbing onto the guy's hand, he scanned it on the lock and the door slid open.

            The one monitoring the security cameras was fast asleep. When he heard the door open, he jerked awake. Turning toward the exit in his chair, he saw that nobody was there.

            “Toby?” He asked, getting up to look out. Batou had lifted himself up by holding onto the ledge on top of the door and swung himself inside, kicking the guard down. When he dropped down, he grabbed onto the guard's collar and punched him. With as weak as he was, he was immediately rendered unconscious.

            Behind him, he dragged the bodies into the control room. The door locked after it closed itself. He went to the large control pad and monitors before him.

            _Just plug in the box to the dashboard and we'll get inside that way._ Ishikawa ordered. After Batou had done so, the bearded man typed in several things onto his own console. From there, they would download every activity the company had made since it was founded. It took about two and a half minutes to do so before the firewall holograms popped up onto the screen before Batou.

            _Shit, they're onto us!_   Batou thought.

            _Just one more second..._ Ishikawa hit a button on his keyboard. _All right. We're done. Get out of there!_

_Right!_ And with that, Batou unplugged the black box and made his exit. With the cloaking device still on, he ran down the hall toward the main entrance. Without much thought, when he turned the corner he accidentally knocked down a plant. One of the first guards noticed this.

            “Banshee!” One cried.

            “No! An intruder!” And he fired his gun in that direction. Batou, still undetected for the most part, dodged to the side. He stood against a wall only to watch them sprint right past him into the other hall to find nothing.

            “Where the hell did he go??” The first asked.

            With that, Batou zipped to the glass doors and let himself out.

            That was close.

            Now to go back to the hotel and get some well needed rest before their little bridal party in the morning. This mission was easy. _Too_ easy. He hoped they weren't missing anything.

**~o~o~o~**

They were picked up a little late because Cindy got sick at IHOP after breakfast. It was assumed that she was pregnant with her second child. It was a delightful surprise that wouldn't be solidified until she took an actual pregnancy test – but since she'd already had one she would just _know_.

            Tabitha was included in their crew as they drove to David's Bridal in Peoria to meet up with the bridal party. Batou was put in a separate section to be sized for his tuxedo. They put him under the _big and tall_ label and left his suit to be tailored because his build was an unusual size in comparison to the rest of the men in the family.

            Seeing as they were finished with his sizing, he'd put on his former clothes and walked out to where the women were. Most of the girls were sitting down and gossiping while the others were helping Miranda with her dress. It was a shiny, baby blue with a wide, giant, white band around her waist that formed into a bow in the back.

            “We're going to have to hem it smaller. Miranda, you've lost weight!” Kendra gushed.

            “Yeah, we don't want her titties to sag in it, either!” Laquesha teased. There was laughter.

            Despite the conversation going on around him, Batou couldn't help but be stunned with how beautiful she looked. The world seemed to stop. Their eyes met and she gave him a smile that he knew was just for him.

 

            _Said, I promised to never fall in love with a stranger_

_You're all I'm thinking of – I praise the Lord above_

_For sending me your love – I cherish every hug_

_I really love you!_

 

            Turning in her place, Miranda looked behind her to watch the tailor pin up pieces of the dress. Her wavy hair rested over her bare shoulders and back. The skirt on her outfit was hemmed up short – about halfway up her thighs. She was squealing at the idea of even more shopping later that day and maybe even lunch together as a group.

 

_And all my life (baby, baby)_

_I've prayed for someone like you_

_And I thank God that I_

_That I finally found you_

_All my life_

_I've prayed for someone like you_

_And I hope that you feel the same way, too_

_Yes, I pray that you do love me_

            To think that she looked extravagant in a bridesmaid dress – he wondered what she'd look like in a _wedding_ dress!

_You're all that I've ever known_

_When you smile, on your face, all I see is a glow_

            But there was no way he could get his hopes up like that. It was a very delicate situation. He was a soldier and she was his client! Such a thing would have been...

             Besides, what if they'd never found a cure for the virus? What if they locked her away in some containment center and she would never have been able to see the light of day? Or worse yet – what if they froze her again or even... He dared not let his heart go near the idea of her death!

_You turned my life around_

_You picked me up when I was down_

_And I hope that you feel the same way, too_

_Yes, I pray that you do love me, too_

**~o~o~o~**

            The bachelor party that evening was rather boring. It had all the staple of a typical American tradition. Trivia, parody music, stripper, pizza; all the dull a before-the-wedding party had. If anything, Batou couldn't wait to get back to the hotel to be with Miranda. They were lucky that the hotel staff didn't put an extra person on their tab after seeing them going in and out with her Mom.

            He felt it was a really stupid idea to watch these fellows – of whom he didn't even know the names of – get into such a drunken stupor that they resorted to distasteful humor and beer pong – ...On a _blow-up doll_.

            One would think that men _their_ age would have known better; but no, they still thought they were college frat boys. Typical of Americans, he thought.

            It was such a relief to get back to the hotel. He wasn't sure he wanted to do _that_ again. Unless it was his own wedding and he was forced to for the sake of American tradition – then maybe he would. That wasn't happening any time soon. He doubted it would happen at all.

            However, he when he was greeted at the door it seemed that a halo suddenly burst and glowed around Miranda's head. That second of illumination was quelled by scientific explanation. The lamp-light was on and he could very well have hallucinated.

            “Miranda!” He smiled, closing the door behind him. The automatic lock clicked.

            “Batou – Batou!” She squealed as she jumped on him, her arms going over his shoulders. “How was the party?”

            “Idiotic.” He replied honestly.

            “ _Really?_ ” She blinked. His hands went to hold her at the waist.

            “The beer wasn't even that good.” He chuckled, letting her go. “We'd better get to sleep. We're having brunch with their family, right? And then all the other festivities will go on and then we can get this wedding business over with.”

            “Can we drop my Mom off at Proctor before we leave for the airport on Monday?”

            “Sure, I don't see why not.” With a nod, he let her slide off of him. He headed toward his own bed, “Where's your Mom?”

            “She went to stay the night with Laquesha. We'll see her at the stuff tomorrow.”

            Batou sighed with relief and stripped down to his boxers before sliding into bed. Seeing as they'd lived together, she was used to the sight. He was always a little uncomfortable with seeing her down to her bare bottoms, though. She figured it was because he was shy or something. Big Sis never had a problem with anything like this.

            In fact, thinking about it... Miranda wondered if Batou were in love with Motoko. After all, they'd known one another and worked together for years before _she_ came into the picture. He'd seen her naked and faced all kinds of perils together.

            Motoko had never expressed an interest in him and actually _encouraged_ Miranda to get close. That didn't change the fact that it could have been a giant triangle all along. Taking in a breath through her nose, she changed into her pajamas. She turned off the lamp and slid into bed.

            _Batou?_ She whispered.

            _Mm? What is it?_ He replied. Why was she speaking to him this way?

            _Are you in love with Motoko?_ Her inner voice sounded sad.

            _No,_ He replied, _Why would you ask that?_

_Well, seeing as you guys are always together... I thought that –_

_Why are you worried about something like that?_ He asked.

            _I'm sorry I tell everyone you're my boyfriend._ She replied, _I never even asked how you felt about it. If you_ don't _want to be my boyfriend then –_

_I never said no._ He replied. _Now get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow._

            There was silence after that. She had no idea what she wanted to say in reply. Maybe it was just best that there wasn't a response?

            It gave her a tiny glimmer of hope.

 

**~o~o~o~**

            Bullets were no match for this thing. It was night and they'd shot more than their good share of rounds and the thing just wouldn't go down. It'd been about half an hour into the fight. They'd slowed it down but it managed to get up after each hit. The air was rancid and there seemed to be no slowing down. The monster had made its way out of the building where her and Batou had rescued Miranda and started causing havoc in the streets. People were smart enough to run away – but those unable to make tracks were swiftly eaten and their flesh assimilated into the creature.

            The thing was disgusting. Motoko noted that the color looked much like that of a human's if the skin was turned inside out. It was a glob of rotting meat roaming around the street. As it charged down at her, she jumped out of the way.

            When the Tachikoma arrived, one popped open its lid and she made her way inside.

            “Let's see how this thing likes missiles!” She pressed a few buttons and away they flew.

            They didn't even get a chance to make contact and explode. With as soft as the thing's body was, all it managed to do was fold over more layers onto the missiles.

            When it bit down, they exploded. Not in flames – but rather flesh went flying. The thing had separated into three parts.

            The Major could swear at that moment. Batou was in America, missing all the excitement. He would be really disappointed to hear they went into battle without him.

            “Get out of the way, Major!” Saito demanded, sitting in a helicopter above. One of his eyes were covered in a patch. It opened up, revealing the trajectory of his target. Over his shoulders, he held a rather bulky sort of gun. It could have been considered a canon at its weight.

            The gunk of their enemy had merged back together. It formed bones that pushed out. It had taken the guise of a large, grotesque bat and started flapping its wings. When in flight, Saito pulled the trigger and flames shot out in a giant stream. The monster was enveloped.

            A loud, high pitched shriek entered the air. It fell to the ground in a liquid puddle that bubbled.

            “Did we get it?” He asked, staring down at his work.

            “Not quite.” Motoko replied, the creature forming into a large bat once more. It took up to the sky again, blood dripping in copious amounts.

            Saito hit the trigger again – only to have missed. He watched it come closer – its legs ready to straddle the open door of the helicopter. Getting its face closer to his own – it hissed at him. He shot another stream of fire – forcing it to jump off.

            Another military chopper came into view. It wasn't from Section 9. The emblem on the side said Collector Trade – which threw Saito off. At first he thought it was the media getting in their way – or even a CEO of some strange company?

            He watched the door slide open. One of the men held out a large hose and sprayed the bat while it was flying. The substance was a lot like the mist that came out of a fire extinguisher. Again, it hissed in pain. Then they brought out a gun – another substance spewing out of it.

            Their prey froze in the air and fell to the ground before the Tachikoma. Seeing as it was pure ice now, pieces went flying as it shattered on the concrete. Vans started isolating the area, forcing the chopper and the blue tanks to leave.

            Someone spoke through a speaker.

            “Section 9 is to leave the premises STAT. We're here to recover the specimen. You are hereby ordered to leave by order of the Japanese Government.” They repeated their status.

            _Chief, I don't know if –_ Motoko started.

            _Leave. There isn't much else we can do here._ Aramaki replied, _We already know they're associated with Gifts of Paradise._

_Right._ With that order, the team left.

**~o~o~o~**

 

        The wedding itself was beautiful, Miranda thought. They'd had it at St. Monica's Catholic Church. Batou sat in a seat that was reserved for Randi and Paris in the second to first pew. Miranda couldn't help but become emotional when the ceremony had come to a close. The handkerchief that came with the dress was useful for catching her tears.

            Seeing as most places had reservations before them – they'd had their reception in Washington just down the road. They were seated at a table outside under a large tent that was open on all sides save for the top.

            Laquesha came over and took Miranda by the hand telling her, “I'm gonna kidnap you for a second here.”

            She took her to the bride and her brides maids. They whispered among themselves.

            “You remember the dance – right Randi? It's been a while.” Kendra asked.

            “For Sexy Love?” Miranda smiled, “Of course I do. It feels like it was only months ago.”

            And for her it _had_ only seemed like months ago. They did a performance for the talent show at a local community college.

            As soon as they saw that all the guests were seated, they went to the center of the tent and took up the microphone.

            “Is this thing working?” Kendra tapped it. After a couple dull thuds, she smiled, “And before the bride and groom have their first dance as a couple –“

            There was boisterous hollering at that.

            “–We're going to have something of a memorial service for the late Paris Jackson!” She nodded, “From all of our hearts – I present to you _Sexy Love_ by T-Ara – a dance performed by none other than –“

            Then all the girls gathered around the mic and shouted:

 

            **“ _The South Korean Culture Club!_ ”**

 

            “This is for you, President Paris!”   She replaced the microphone on its stand and moved it out of the way. The seven of them got into position. Batou noticed an empty spot in their group. He assumed it was reserved for Paris.

            Over the speakers, the keyboard started playing. At the beginning they seemed to move around with the music like they were robots. Their movements were stiff.

            When it got right down to the actual music, they began their stint rather excitedly. For Miranda this was tons of fun. Afterward, for the other women, though, it would be pain on their joints and backs. While Randi was still a fresh 32 – all of her friends were between the ages of 43 and 47. That was the big difference in aging between them.

           

_neon jeongmal SEXY nun SEXY ko_  
SEXY ip SEXY LOVE  
nae nunen modeunge da SEXY  
Oh sexy eyes sexy nose  
Sexy mouth don't you know  
oneul nan nega jeongmal SEXY

_NO NO NO NO can't you feel my love_  
nae mameul neukkinayo(oh!)  
NO NO NO NO can't you feel my heart  
naegerowa Tonight night night

 

            After that, they started taking professional photographs of the family. Pictures were already taken of the bridal party, so Miranda, Laquesha and a few of the other girls took seats with Batou at their table – careful to leave a space open for their friend.

            “Girl, you gotta tell me,” Laquesha started, “How do you keep such a youthful face? Are you piling up the make-up or is it some kind of face cream? And you walkin' around like it ain't nobody's business. Girl, I gotta know. I've been battling the crow's feet for about ten years now!”

             Miranda looked up then over at Batou. He was waiting for her response, too.

            “Well – Diet and exercise and...” She brought her arms up, “...And lots of sex!”

            Batou practically fell out of his chair.

            There was laughter. Laquesha wasn't buying any of it – but wasn't about to show it, either. A nod was made as she got up.

            “They're going to have their first dance here. Gotta get lots of pictures for social media. You get it, right?”

            “Totally.” Miranda nodded.

           

            _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_

_Without saying a word you can light up the dark_

Seeing as other people were gathering around the bride and groom for their first dance, Miranda grabbed Batou's hand and drug him out to the dance floor. Once there, he was at a loss for words as what to do. Luckily, for him, though, Randi placed his hand on her hip – her own on his shoulder – and held the other in her own hand. She initiated the movement of their feet.

_Try as I may I could never explain_

_What I hear when you don't say a thing_

With a smile in her eyes, she stared up at him. He towered over her, to say the least. Batou gave an awkward smile. He'd never been put in a situation like this before. What on earth was he supposed to do? He wasn't opposed to doing such things – especially when it involved her – but there was no practice on his end. He could create bombs, shoot massive guns and kick just about anybody's ass – but this? He had no experience.

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_

_There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me_

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall_

_You say it best when you say nothing at all_

It was Miranda who'd closed the space between them. Her front was smothered against his tuxedo as she lied her head against his chest. She could hear his heart _put-putter._ She didn't realize that she made his heart jump, the closer they got. With a small smile, his arm went further up her back. He leaned in, his face in her hair. He took delight in the way it smelled.

_All day long I can hear people talking out loud_

_But when you hold me near you drown out the crowd_

_Old Mr. Webster could never define_

_What's being said between your heart and mine_

Tabitha used Laquesha's camera to record the first dance. She walked around the room, getting a good picture of the bride and her man when she noticed something else. The crowd had thinned out, showing Batou and Miranda together. She was live-streaming it on her Youtube account. She'd made an announcement earlier in the day about that.

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_

_There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me_

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall_

_You say it best when you say nothing at all_

           

            And who else was watching her live-stream the reception? One of the email invites went straight to the desk of Chief Aramaki. By now, he'd gotten done with breakfast and had gotten dressed to head into work.  The day before Batou had called him to tell him about their _detour_ before heading back.

            “What are you watching?” Motoko asked, seeing him going through files. Music was playing from his computer.

            “Come around and see for yourself, Major.” He said. The Major went around and put a hand on his desk, leaning in.

            “Oh my...” The crowd thinned out, showing Batou and Miranda together.

            “I thought about scolding them about having their images on social media – but Ishikawa has it under control. Only those who need to see this will.”

            “Well, this has turned into an interesting morning.” Motoko replied.

            “It seems that things are working according to plan.” He took a drink of his coffee.

            “It seems so. Any clue on a cure for the virus?” She asked.

            “We're hoping the half-life runs out before causing her any serious damage. If anything, what we're working on now is trying to either reverse the disease or keep it from spreading. It'll take some well worth work, but it can happen.”

            “I'm assuming the cure for the virus isn't the big part of your plan?”

            Aramaki chuckled, “What makes you say that, Major?”

            She gave a small smile, watching the Youtube account.

 

**~o~o~o~**

 

            Every movement was sheer pleasure pulsing through him. He'd tried really hard not to kiss her. His lips went from her collar bone, to her neck, down to her bra line. The chemistry was sizzling between them then – and he was about to lose it. It was so hot that when they got into the hotel room, he kicked the door closed and dropped her onto his bed. He'd felt around her legs, pushing the bottom of her dress up over her hips – panties exposed.

            Getting on top of her was no feat – as was lifting her legs so that lump under his pants could be cradled in the crease of her mound, only clothing separated them. Grinding into her, his lips traced neck and collar bone. By now, his hips were bucking into her.

            “Batou...” Miranda squirmed under him, “... _Batou...!_ ”

            “Mm?” He lifted his face from her neck to look down at her.

            “Y-...You're humping me.” She whimpered.

            “Oh God –“ He pushed himself up off the bed. With a hand to the back of his head, he turned away. “I'm _so sorry_.”

            He headed for the bathroom and leaned against a wall before sliding down. Once he sat, he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. There wasn't much else to do – he'd already humiliated himself. Why not get some relief?

            Batou stared at the ceiling as he gently pulled on his cock. This was really the worst thing that could have happened during their visit. He was just glad her Mom had stayed at the party and would leave with Laquesha and her family instead of walking in on them.

            _We could always use a condom._ Miranda suggested.

            _Nah, there's too much at risk._ Batou whispered to her, _Even with that I could still contract it through the skin. A condom wouldn't be much help besides –_

_Besides, what?_ She asked.

            _Nevermind that. This is more complicated than what you need to worry about._ He replied, _So, tell me what your fantasy is?_

_I mean –  really Batou?_ Lying in the bed, she pouted.

            _Awh, c'mon!_ He pouted, _I'm gonna need some visuals here. After all, you threw out my best porno mags. You owe me._

_Ha! I don't owe you shit – but since you really wanted to know..._ She smiled, _I've always wanted to live in Peoria in the bluffs with my fiancee. We would get engaged in the winter at a skating rink. He'd love me – even when I'm the ugliest person in the world. We would fall in love and be together always. He would be the first person I thought of when I woke up and the last thing on my mind before I sleep._

_THAT'S your fantasy?_ If Batou could blink, he would have.

            _Well – steamy sex is somewhere in between there._ She replied.

            He gave a half smile. What a wonderful dream. If he could make it come true for her – he would. The movement of his hand started to quicken a bit. He wanted to savor every piece of that dream.

            Seeing her undress before him the other day didn't leave much for the imagination. The way her nipples stuck out of her dress gave him a good idea of what her breasts were shaped like. He dreamed up a perfect scenario of them together. He would touch her all over – his hands discovering every little curve. The way that she would bounce on the bed as he thrust into her; the way her breasts would bounce; the way he held her legs over his shoulders; the way she would moan in pleasure. He could almost hear it. That was when he froze in his spot. He wasn't imagining it –

            She actually _was_ moaning from the other room! Upon realizing this, he could feel every nerve in his body jerk upward. He watched a stream of precum shoot up comedically. _ZING!_

Grabbing onto himself tightly, he leaned in toward the doorway to listen.

            _My God, girl,_ He whispered to her, _You enjoying yourself?_

_Don't judge me!_ She replied, _You're doing it too!_

_Right, right._ He nodded, _I'm just going to be here. Rubbing my cock. Listening t –_

That beautiful noise got louder.

            _Yep. I know how to hit the spot!_ He smirked.

Later, when his semen had gotten as thin as water, Batou came out of the bathroom. He changed into his boxers and lied on the bed next to Miranda. However, she was under the covers. He lied on top of them and faced away from her. Her scent was everywhere.

            “...Batou?” She asked, quietly.

            “Yeah?” He replied.

            “Could you do me a favor...?” She continued, “I mean a _really_ big favor.”

            “Sure. What is it?” He didn't hesitate.

            “...You can make copies of a person's memories, right?”

            “What are you saying by that?” If he could blink, he would.

            “I don't think I'm ever going to get a hold of that antidote.” She said honestly, “Could you make a copy of my memories? And I mean more than just my memories – but every feeling and experience?”

            He was quiet a moment as he thought about it. “Is this really what you want?”

            “I don't want my mother to forget about me. That, and I want to be with you always – even if it is just a space of memory in a computer.”

            Lightly, he shuddered with emotion.

            “If it's too big of a deal then we could –“

            “I'll do it.” He replied, “Just hook us up and I'll do just that.”

            “Right.” She sat up and took out the cord from the back of her neck.

            He got under the covers and turned to her. Taking the plug in hand, he hooked it up to the back of one of his own ports.

            They lied back down. His arm went around her. He pulled her close.

            “Batou, I don't want you to get bothered again if it's a problem.” She said.

            “...It won't get hard again for another day or two,” He replied, “Besides, if I pulled it anymore blood would come out.”

            “...How long is this going to take?” She asked. He kissed behind her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck.

            “As long as it needs to.”


	6. Diving Into Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meep.

**The Case of the Queens Virus**

**_A Ghost in the Shell Fanfiction_ **

****

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ghost in the Shell. It is property of Shirow Masamune, Kodansha, Production I.G. and whoever else has rights to it. I am simply writing this fanfiction for the entertainment of myself and my friends.

 

**Chapter Six**

**_Diving into Disappointment_ **

 

          Their stay seemed _so_ short to Miranda. She would have to go back to Japan and continue living the alias given to her. She wasn't sure how much more her heart could take. A cure for the virus was what she really wanted. No one had really explained to her how it worked. Just like all viruses, though, it would leave her system naturally, right? But then why was she told from the beginning that there was an antidote?

            Miranda didn't think of herself as quick-witted as most – so she wasn't really sure what the answers were. What she did understand, though, was that there was a possibility that the virus could mutate and turn her into a monster. That, or her insides would be disintegrated by the high acidity of her blood. She would puke up her heart, lungs, stomach and what other organs she had without any way to control it. This frightened her greatly.

             The drive down 116 toward Spring Bay had taken a moment. There were no words between them. It wouldn't be for another seven hours that they would need to catch their flight. That, and she doubted that her mother would be awake at this God awful hour.

            As they were going down the freeway, Miranda blindly played with the radio – her eyes still on the road.

            It was a beautiful thing the two shared the evening before. She never knew that Batou was so enamored with her. Last night all the barriers were let down and they could actually connect. Which they had already – but this piece of the puzzle was special only unto them.

            Pat Benatar's _Invincible_ played over the speakers. Miranda exhaled slowly after that breath. There wasn't anything else on the radio waves – so why not?

            When she found the spot she was looking for, she hit her turn signal and looked out for traffic beside and behind her. Seeing as it was clear, she switched to the left lane. Pulling into the turn lane, she saw there was no traffic coming – so she continued driving.

            They pulled into a trailer park. She parked in one of the visitor's spots and put the gear into park before turning off the car altogether.

            “Where are we?” Batou asked, looking around.

            “I grew up here.” Miranda replied, taking out the keys. Once they'd closed the door, she pressed a button on the key ring and the lights flashed, locking the doors.

            The trailers looked rather out of shape. Since there were no cars parked near any of the mobile homes, she presumed the place was empty. With as bent out of shape as these things were, she was surprised that they hadn't been demolished. According to the slips of paper on the windows and doors, they'd already been condemned.

             “This is where I lived until my great aunt Florence took me in.” She said, as they trailed the roads between them. Seeing her ghost completely, Batou started to remember what she was talking about.

            “I lived in this one with my mother.” She stopped and turned to face it. It had a paled hunter-green trim with a white exterior that had mold and dirt everywhere. “I was raped by the neighbor when I was twelve.”

            “Does it make you uncomfortable to be here?” Batou's brows rose.

            “Not anymore. The guy who did it overdosed on heroin. He was my Mom's old dealer.”

            “And then child and family services tried taking you away. That's when your aunt Flo stepped in.” He nodded.

            “It's been a long time since I've been here.” She said, “When I was living here before I didn't even bother coming back.”

            “Why come back now?” If he could blink, he would.

            “I don't think I'm going to live much longer.” She replied, “I just wanted to make peace before things went downhill.”

            “Don't talk like that, Randi.” He frowned. She moved to walk back to the car when he took her by the arm. She stopped with a jerk. Before she could turn to him, he pulled her into his arms.

            “...Batou, you can't even so much as _kiss_ me.” She stared, “You deserve somebody you can bone for the rest of your life.”

            “Do you think love really revolves around just sex?” He asked.

            “Well, it certainly helps.” She frowned. Batou realized that all men ever wanted from her _was_ that.

            “Don't you understand Randi?” He started shaking.

            “Why are you shaking like that?” She blinked, watching him, “Are you mad at me?”

            “No.” He replied, “I'm crying. I don't have eyes so there aren't any tears. It's the only way to feel emotion.”

            “Don't cry over the dead.” Her lips quivered.

            He stared at them. “I don't even care if I get sick –!“

            Batou lowered his head, his lips reaching for hers. She put up a hand to block his advance. “I'm sorry, Batou. I don't want you to catch this.”

            “...Right.” His brows rose. “We should be getting back. The sun has been out for a while now. Your Mom is probably waiting.”

            Miranda nodded in response.

 

           

**~o~o~o~**

            “Oh, and by the way, Randi,” Tabitha stood outside the car, bag over her shoulder, “Aunt Flo left an inheritance for you.”

            “An inheritance?” Miranda perked up.

            “Sadly, because we thought you were dead – she ended up giving it to me.” Mom replied.

            “Really? What did you do with it?” Miranda blinked.

            “...I spent it all paying off my debt and buying stuff I didn't need and ended up accumulating more debt in the process.”

            “YOU SPENT MY FUCKING INHERITANCE ON _BULLSHIT?!_ ” Batou had to hold Miranda back because she was leaning out the window ready to strangle her mother.

            “She did leave you a CD that I'm not allowed to touch. Last time I checked it was around $5,000. Could be more because she always kept adding to it and adding to it.”

            “I'll come check it out when we get back from Japan.”

            “Good.” Tabitha kissed her daughter's cheek, “I love you, baby girl. Take care of yourself.”

            Miranda kissed her back, “Love you too, Mom. Now go check yourself in.”

 

**~o~o~o~**

            During her studies, Randi had learned that the politics in America had denied people the right to transfer their brains and ghosts into synthetic bodies. It was among many of the issues hotly debated like abortion, cloning and anything else that was deemed a scientific advancement. There were too many morals to justify banning such a practice – even if it prolonged and improved the quality of life of the individual.

            That was the kind of life the people asked for when they voted their officials in. Soon enough, there would be enough money shoved into the political system that those votes would be shallow. Kind of like a placebo effect that would give them peace of mind when really they were having the rug pulled out from under them. This was only the tipping point before they fell into a full-blown communist state; right under their noses.

            Miranda was surprised at the fact that they'd allow living, cyborg bodies to travel there. Certainly, there were extra security measures – racial profiling was bad enough as it is – but that was with everything at the airport, right?

            It was time for Keiko Aramaki to return to Japan. Taking in a breath, she looked up at the glass ceiling of the terminal. Their flight wouldn't leave for another half an hour. She was really going to miss her mother. Miss everything about American life. She would miss Japan, too – after she died.

            “Something wrong, Kei?” Batou asked.

            “...No. Nothing at all.” Her eyes went to the floor and then back up at him. “Let's just get back before I decide not to leave.”

 

            **~o~o~o~**

           

            “I swear. I don't know what I'm going to do with her!” Batou exclaimed, “The woman talks to herself, laughs at just about anything possible, she blares music in her headphones, spends hours on the computer writing, drinks coffee like mad, tells perverted jokes – she drives me crazy and I can't help but...”

            “...but love her.” Aramaki replied with a smile. He straightened a stack of papers in his hands before putting them in a folder and into a drawer in his desk.

            The soldier blushed and stuttered. What he said was incomprehensible. If anything, he attempted to say something as a rebuttal – but after a few seconds in thought, he got quiet.

            Of course, he'd felt _some_ kind of affection for her. His attraction to her was strong and undeniable. But to actually love her was something he'd not considered. Though, he'd already pondered her staying with him without cease – was _that_ love?

            Since their flight Miranda had been acting quiet and aloof. It was like she was incredibly annoyed but wouldn't say about what. She nearly snapped at Batou when they'd returned to the airport in Japan.

            He figured she was just sleepy and jet-lagged. During most of their time on the plane she was quiet, staring out the window. It was a complete one-eighty compared to how she acted during their first flight.

            Miranda entered the office with a perturbed look on her face.

            “Keiko-chan.” Daisuke greeted her with a smile, rising from his desk. “Is there something you need?”

            “So, is there a cure yet?” She asked. That was probably what she was getting antsy about, Batou figured.

            “No.” Aramaki replied, “We're working on finding something to help, though.”

            She turned and exited the room quickly. She was still on edge – and it was probably about something more than the antidote. Batou followed her.

            Once they were out in the hall, he stopped her. In her own eyes was pain. His facial expression showed something different, though.

            “Miranda – there is something I need to tell you.” He started, “I'm in love with you. I think about you everyday and there isn't anything that I want other than for us to be together. I cant imagine living the rest of my life without you.”

            Sharply, she looked away. Did she even hear a word he said?

           

                        _No me ames, porque pienses que parezco diferente_

_Don't love me because I'm different_  
  


_No me ames, que comprendo, la mentira que seria_

_Don't love me, I understand what a lie it would be_

 

“Batou – Please don't love me.” She replied, “Can't you see I'm going to die?”

            Miranda pulled away and ran off. He stood there, stunned.

           

            Hours had passed and she was nowhere to be found.

 

            She was declared missing.


End file.
